


Inexorable

by Akaiba



Category: Warcraft (2016)
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Getting Together, Kid Fic, M/M, Parent-Child Relationship, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-14
Updated: 2016-10-31
Packaged: 2018-07-23 23:06:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7483533
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akaiba/pseuds/Akaiba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Ah…” Khadgar gave a surprised laugh and Lothar opened his tired eyes to see the baby determinedly sucking on the end of Khadgar’s index finger. “I think she might be hungry…”</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I got the prompt: Liontrust + (accidental? up to you) baby acquisition. Lothar being an A++ daddy and Khadgar being surprisingly good at handling babies (he helped with little magelings in the Kirin Tor maybe?). Bonus points if at some point they realize/are told the baby is theirs for good, and if they aren't together/are just figuring out they like each other when they first get the baby.
> 
> And it wouldn't leave me alone so here is a slowburn liontrust baby fic.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Ah…” Khadgar gave a surprised laugh and Lothar opened his tired eyes to see the baby determinedly sucking on the end of Khadgar’s index finger. “I think she might be hungry…”
> 
> Liontrust Kid Fic

The call had come in the form of smoke, as too many did these days. Guards from the walls came breathless to the Keep with reports of pillars of black towards the south. Still visible from the wall but far enough south that Lothar knew in their gut they would never make it in time. For there to be smoke they were already too late to save everyone, but even one soul seemed impossible the longer it took to gather his men and march.

 

Khadgar had almost teleported himself there three times, but Lothar's insistence he be brought along as well was met with the answer, “We have no way of knowing how many are there, I won't watch you die.”

 

“Then you do not go either. Your logic is sound.” Lothar hated it when Khadgar was right but there was satisfaction in throwing his own logic back at him. 

 

If either of them went alone, even together, they'd be no match for a large number of the Horde. It had been difficult to determine exactly where had been hit but all they had to do was follow the smoke. A few hours hard ride had them catching up to the contingent of soldiers sent from a nearer outpost, and they also knew where they were headed. 

 

A farm.

 

Lothar's hands tightened on the reins as he listened to the Knight-Lieutenant speak. 

 

It would have been a small group. A raiding party for a farm? No more than ten, more likely five or six. He and Khadgar could have handled that. Their rescue party was laughably over the top in light of that, and despite their fast response they hadn't been fast enough. They weren't these days.

 

The smoke was still billowing from the charred barns but any fire had died down, leaving only ash and silence. 

 

Khadgar was off his horse the moment they reached the farm proper and Lothar snarled at him, “You stay behind me, spell chucker. Do  _ not _ rush off,” Lothar dismounted his horse in one smooth motion, drawing his sword the moment his feet touched the floor, “You go nowhere alone until we have secured the area.”

 

The mage bristled as Lothar marched past him, “You don't have to coddle me. I was looking after myself just fine before I met you,” Khadgar gestured to himself, “Also: Guardian.”

 

“My apologies for watching out for you, ‘oh mighty Guardian’. I thought you might appreciate an armoured body between your soft robes and a sword,” Lothar snapped back without looking over his shoulder. 

 

Chastised, Khadgar fell silent and kept pace behind Lothar. Of course Khadgar was still a child in Lothar's eyes, still someone that needed protecting despite how many times he'd proven himself. Even his attempts to remind Lothar of his abilities just seemed to wind up further proving Lothar's doubts of them. 

 

They moved through the front of the buildings towards the main farmhouse as groups of soldiers broke off to search the others. Most of the crop field in front of the collection of buildings had been torched, and the barns were empty but for two horses that had had their throats slit. Lothar led Khadgar through the front door of the main building to where they found a ransacked front room. The tables had been overturned and the fire unattended, now banked low and smoldering away, but what had Khadgar freezing was the blood.

 

Arcs and sprays of blood ran thick across the walls but the floor was soaked in it. It pooled around the body of a woman laid out under a tipped chair, a man under her. Between both of them, unmoving and long cold, the floor of the farmhouse was difficult to navigate without stepping into the blood. 

 

Khadgar pressed the cuffs of his robe over his mouth. It didn’t smell like death, they weren’t that late, but it smelled like blood. He could taste it when he inhaled and he wanted to throw up at the idea of even swallowing the metallic hint of it. 

 

“Check upstairs,” Lothar instructed, gaze flicking over how pale Khadgar had gone. It wasn’t as though Khadgar was a stranger to the dead, the first time they’d met Khadgar had acquainted his fingers with a dead man’s throat with seemingly no revulsion- or at least the practiced tolerance of it- but this wasn’t a professional examination. It was different when the scene was laid out before you and the air still rang with that silence that came after screaming. Too late to save them but not too late to see what they'd suffered.

 

Khadgar looked ready to protest but Lothar could see how the sight had sobered him, and instead Khadgar moved to the stairs. There would be no one upstairs, Lothar knew that. But Lothar also doubted it would have any more dead there either and he didn't want Khadgar to have to face the next task.

 

It was an uncomfortably familiar task now, and one Lothar did not take any comfort in offering. More duty, than respect. What use did the dead have for respect? They were dead. Lothar could hold on to the dear thoughts of his lost ones but that was all they would be; lost. Gone. What did they care if Lothar mourned them every waking minute or if, for only a few moments, when he woke he forgot he'd lost them at all. Still, it has to be done. The fires were doused where they smouldered and between the men assembled they had the bodies of the farmer and his wife, the farmhands and their wives, and a few adolescent children, all wrapped in white cloth and laid out. The pyres were built and the day wore on, Lothar focused and removed from his task into maudlin thoughts when Khadgar finally found him.

 

“We have a problem,” Khadgar’s voice came from behind Lothar as the warrior stood, lifting the last of the sheet wrapped bodies in his arms.

 

He grunted with the effort of lifting the weight as he carefully placed the limp form next to another on one of the many pyres. They’d had to assemble five. Five pyres. Lothar wasn’t sure his tongue could be trusted to be kind right now, and yet as ever the mage was trying to engage him in conversation like Lothar wasn’t seeing ghosts everywhere he turned. He could have sworn the young farmhand they’d found on the floor of the stable had been Callan, even knowing it wasn’t possible he’d still stared frozen at the bloodied face until one of his men shook his shoulder. 

 

“I noticed,” Lothar managed to bite out as he stood back from the pyre. There were too many bodies. It had been a big farm, not even a village, but any bodies were too many. Lothar was tired of it. Of the death, of always being too late to do more than burn them.

 

Khadgar grabbed his arm and Lothar, wrongly, wanted to shove him. He didn’t want to be touched right now. His lips peeled back in a snarl but Khadgar was earnestly staring at him and his arms were offered out with a small bundle in them. “No, I mean another one,” Khadgar insisted as Lothar’s worst fear was confirmed with a tiny hand reaching out from the swaddling to tug at the mage’s robe.

 

“Is that…” As if sensing they were being spoken about the baby let out a gurgle and immediately drew Khadgar’s full attention. To Lothar’s surprise the mage deftly settled the baby into the crook of his arm and teasingly waggled his fingers over the baby’s face. 

 

It shouldn’t have been that shocking that Khadgar was adept at handling children, not after what Lothar had learned of the mage’s life. Khadgar had been around a fair few children growing up, from his family and then throughout his time with the Kirin Tor, but it was different actually seeing the skills Khadgar had learned in action. The baby settled and clutched instead at the waving fingers that the infant could most likely only distinguish as shapes, burbling happily as Khadgar smiled down at them before turning back to Lothar. “I found her in the upper room of the main farmhouse,” Khadgar offered, oblivious to Lothar’s assessing look, “Someone… someone had put her in a drawer.”

 

Lothar closed his eyes as he sighed, his shoulders sagging as he pictured it. The mother or father realising there was no escape, they would not be getting out alive, but they might be able to hide their child. Desperation was a powerful inventor and the orcs would have no interest in searching for trinkets in a bedroom dresser. The baby had survived.

 

“She gave no cry?” Lothar had heard only silence all day, no complaint from the child despite the horrors she had been found among. They had not been long late, but the baby was content enough in Khadgar's arms that she looked to be unbothered by her brief time in a furniture drawer.

 

Khadgar shook his head, “I was helping Riorgan and the others assemble the belongings to prevent looters taking everything. I opened a drawer and, well, there she was. Ah…” Khadgar gave a surprised laugh and Lothar opened his tired eyes to see the baby determinedly sucking on the end of Khadgar’s index finger. “I think she might be hungry…”

 

Lothar watched as Khadgar turned away from him and marched back towards the farmhouse, all the while murmuring to the baby as if it was second nature to him. The warrior blinked his eyes slowly after them as he struggled to process the mage’s adept handling of the baby, but in a way it was a welcome relief. Lothar had enough to handle without also juggling a child, and while he’d had one he hadn’t exactly been the best father to Callan. The baby was better off in Khadgar’s hands so Lothar left the mage to it and took a branch from the pyre to fashion into a torch. He was still tying a strip of bandage around one of the branch’s ends when Khadgar came back towards him, this time with a baby bottle in hand. 

 

The dairy field was empty when they’d arrived and they’d been there all day but seen no sign of any escaped cattle. It made sense for the orcs to have taken the cows and Lothar’s men had their own food for it not to be a concern. They could have even hunted more, but Lothar highly doubted they’d find a dairy cow or a nursing goat in the surrounding forest.

 

In a surprising turn, yet again, Khadgar wasn’t looking to Lothar for answers. Lothar would almost be offended, having been a single father, but Khadgar didn’t need help as he summoned a glass of milk. It was on the tip of Lothar’s tongue to remind the mage it needed to be warm when a campfire sprang into existence beside them. Khadgar’s abilities with wordless magic were simple but growing, just a flash of his eyes with each spell that seemed to delight the baby in his arms. Ever the pragmatist Khadgar knelt down and pulled a small iron pot from his bag, pouring the milk into it to heat over the fire. Lothar was truly impressed.

 

“Exactly how many times have you done this?” He found himself asking, kneeling by the fire and watching Khadgar with open interest.

 

Khadgar looked up from where he was minding the pot while also pulling strange faces at the baby reaching for him, with far too much familiarity for it to have been the first time. “I told you: I had brothers and sisters,” But that wasn’t an answer. Deflection wasn’t Khadgar’s greatest talent and Lothar had been using it for years.

 

A burbling shriek drew Lothar’s attention as he chucked the baby under her chin and fixed Khadgar with a serious look. “You told me you were six,” Lothar pointed out. “You did this at six? You cared for your siblings?”

 

Khadgar rolled one shoulder in that deliberate way he hadn’t mastered yet that usually gave away when he wasn’t entirely comfortable with the conversation. “I liked helping,” He answered off hand like it didn’t mean much, but in truth told Lothar more about Khadgar than even the knowledge he’d been given away so young. 

 

Lothar nodded to himself at the lack of an answer before dipping the cloth end of the branch he held into the fire. The baby gurgled loudly and Khadgar immediately focused on her, paying no mind to Lothar. His hand reached for her like it was pulled, muscle memory kicking in so that the mage was acting before he even thought to look. Something tugged at Lothar to see it, to watch the baby’s tiny hands determinedly smack at Khadgar’s tickling fingers as she giggled.

 

The branch in Lothar’s hand crackled as the not quite fully dry wood popped and hissed, the warrior turning to attend to the funeral pyres as Khadgar attended to the infant. Lothar’s men had finished assembling property and belongings onto a wagon with the names they’d gathered from the census. It would all be taken back to Stormwind for any living family to claim, along with the deeds to the land and houses. Lothar didn’t envy the grieving families all the hassle, it wasn’t what people needed when they’d already lost someone but it was the easiest way to ensure nothing was taken by opportunists. It was also the least Lothar could do for, once again, arriving too late. 

 

He moved from pyre to pyre, letting them catch and going to the next, until all were lit and he stood with the rest of his men. Their heads were bowed and Knight-Lieutenant Riorgan looked to Lothar to say something, anything at all. 

 

Lothar had nothing. Just more failed people he would see in his nightmares. Khadgar moved to his side as if drawn, his eyes far too big and far too innocent for the death he’d seen, but the baby in his arms even more so. Somehow, Lothar felt as though he’d failed Khadgar and the baby as well. The little girl was without her parents and even though Khadgar had saved her, the mage looked worn in a way Lothar couldn’t mend. 

 

The priest that had accompanied them spoke up instead, speaking a hopeful prayer to their bowed heads as the pyres burned and the sun set over them. 

 

Slowly, they broke away to sleep in the camp they’d made not far from the buildings. No one had wanted to stay in the buildings themselves and Lothar couldn’t blame them. Better the ground than the bed of a man you’d just put to rest. Finally it was just Lothar and Khadgar, and of course the baby now fed and dozing in Khadgar’s arms. 

 

“You should sleep,” Lothar said, his voice rough from disuse and the smoke from the fires. 

 

Khadgar shifted the baby gently in his hold to sit more comfortably against the his chest. “So should you.” The silence swallowed them again for a moment while Khadgar fussed with the cloth he’d carefully hidden the baby’s face with so the smoke wouldn’t choke her. “I could take us back to Stormwind, if you’d like?”

 

Lothar shook his head firmly, “No, I need… I need to be with men.”

 

As easy as breathing Khadgar simply nodded, “Okay,” and just adjusted to Lothar’s plan. 

 

“You should go back. With the baby.”

 

“We’ll stay,” Apparently that order wasn’t so easily swallowed, but instead Khadgar defied as easily as he’d followed the first. 

 

“As you like,” Lothar was in no mood to argue. It wasn’t as though the child was unsafe surrounded by a whole patrol of soldiers and resting her round cheek on the chest of the Guardian. 

  
But of course, Lothar thought as he was woken in the night by wailing cries, perhaps they weren’t safe from the child. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr: akaiba.tumblr.com


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lothar rolled his eyes and pushed into the circle. “Bunch of useless nannies, give her here.” He held out his hands to Khadgar who petulantly held her away from Lothar.

_ But of course, Lothar thought as he was woken in the night by wailing cries, perhaps they weren’t safe from the child. _

 

When Lothar staggered blearily from the tent it was to find he had been late to wake. Already Khadgar was pacing between five helpful, if exhausted, soldiers holding torches and offering advice. Even two supposed to be on watch had come over to assist. The mage was wearing his undershirt and trousers but he'd wrapped the baby in his cloak, only thrown around them both like a large blanket, but he looked frazzled without the audience to the source of his distress.

 

“Try whiskey on her gums, that used to help my Janey,” One offered.

 

Another scoffed, “That’s for teething, she’s not even old enough to be thinking about teeth yet. I bet she’s got wind.”

 

Khadgar gave them all an aggravated look, never once pausing as he bounced and rubbed her back. “I’ve been burping her this entire time!”

 

“Wind below, then. Nothing to do but wait.”

 

Lothar rolled his eyes and pushed into the circle. “Bunch of useless nannies, give her here.” He held out his hands to Khadgar who petulantly held her away from Lothar.

 

“I know what I am doing,” Khadgar insisted.

 

Lothar insistently waggled his fingers, “If you did I wouldn’t be awake right now; give.” He ignored the filthy look Khadgar threw at him as the mage gave in and handed over the red faced, screaming baby.

 

He unpinned the cloak blanket from around her, throwing it over his shoulder as he pressed his palm to her back. She was so small his palm almost covered her back entirely. In only his sleeping pants Lothar cradled his arms around the baby and rested her against his bared chest, the child’s warm skin touching his as he held her close to keep her cosy. She rubbed her wet face into his chest hair for a moment, unsure what to make of it for a while, but as Lothar shushed and rocked her she quieted.

 

Fascinated, Khadgar drew closer. “What did you do?”

 

Lothar yawned, long and deep, as he soaked up the silence made so sweet now as the baby was settled. “Callan was the same. The healers said babies need the contact to feel safe sometimes. After the day she’s had, well… it was worth a shot.” Khadgar was staring and it was starting to unnerve Lothar the longer the mage without blinking his big, wet eyes, “What? Why are you staring?”

 

“N-nothing,” Khadgar shook his head, but even a few of the gathered soldiers were watching him with similarly heartfelt expressions and it was irking Lothar to see them. He had been a father, if an awful one emotionally, but he'd known how to look after Callan at least. The misty eyed surprise at his parenting skills were a little unwarranted. Khadgar gave a low laugh, mindful of the camp now attempting to get back to sleep. “Well, I suppose this means she’ll be staying with you tonight.”

 

Panic seized Lothar at that, “No, no! You can’t just leave her with me.” He snagged the end of the cloak as Khadgar tried to take it back, pulling the mage in a step.

 

Several ‘shh’s’ came from the tents around them and Lothar wanted to snarl at them. Khadgar was grinning outright at Lothar’s panic and Lothar didn’t appreciate that at all. “She’s sleeping, Lothar. I don’t want to wake her by moving her too much.”

 

“You are coming with me.”

 

“Coming where?”

 

“To my tent.”

 

Khadgar flushed hotly and even in the low campfire light Lothar watched him colour so fast it was almost dizzying. “I am  _ not _ .” He pulled at the cloak again but Lothar refused to budge.

 

“Yes,” Lother pulled again and Khadgar was forced alongside him. The mage tugged but failed to loosen his grip at all, “You are.” In a smooth move he grabbed Khadgar's hand.

 

“I could blink away, you know,” Khadgar pointed out as he was tugged towards Lothar’s tent.

 

“The fact you’re not makes me think you really want to spend the night in my tent, then.” Lothar wasn’t awake enough to take note of the weighted silence Khadgar gave him at that and instead settled for smirking at Khadgar's scowling face as he pointed the mage into his tent. 

 

Khadgar pushed past him with a muttered, “Hardly,” before petulantly staking a claim on most of the blankets. His cloak he laid between where Lothar figured he and Khadgar would be sleeping, bunching it at the edges into a makeshift cradle that Lothar obediently laid the baby in. She snuffled and murmured in protest at being jostled, but quietened at the warm palm Lothar laid over her back, balling her fists and rubbing her cheek over the fabric of the cloak. Khadgar laid down beside her, his body curling to frame where she lay, and Lothar could see his fingers twitching to touch her but he seemed hesitant to intrude when Lothar had his hand on her. 

 

Rolling his eyes, Lothar took the mage’s hand by the wrist and guided it to the baby. At the brush of his fingers her hand unballed and Khadgar’s eyes brightened, slipping his index finger into the curl of her chubby hand which closed around the digit immediately. 

 

The pinched furrow that had been on Khadgar’s brow since Lothar had seen him fretting over the screaming child eased, and Lothar found himself speaking if only because he remembered that feeling, “She likes you the most. I’m just warm.” Taria had said something similar after four sleepless nights where Lothar failed to settle his own son and his sister had finally gotten Callan to sleep just from rocking and shushing him, stripped down to a simple gown and Callan’s head resting on her breast. Warmth and skin contact, as simple a comfort as anything but more than Lothar could offer sometimes. Even now it wasn’t enough, the baby still reached for Khadgar.

 

“She likes you too,” Khadgar insisted, eyes slowly sagging to half mast now the baby wasn’t screaming the forest down around them.

 

Lothar didn’t have a response to that, so instead he levered himself to lying down in a mirror of Khadgar’s position. The tent wasn’t very big and both their backs touched the tent wall, but it would be warm enough between them that it didn’t matter. In theory he should be cosier, if a little less able to spread out, and be able to fall asleep more easily.

 

He hadn't shared a tent with another soldier for many, many years. Command came with perks, few Lothar really exercised, but some he was pushed to take. His tent was often erected for him and left him without time to comment until after the fact, which seemed ungrateful when he hadn't needed to do a thing. But between that and never having shared a bed with another since his wife, Lothar was finding it difficult to settle himself.

 

He could hear Khadgar  _ breathing _ . It would, Lothar supposed, be more alarming if he couldn't but between Khadgar's low breaths and the snuffling huffs the baby was giving it was more noise than Lothar was used to.

 

And it was… nice.

 

Strange, in the familiar way of it having been there before and not realising how much you'd missed it. 

 

Khadgar let out a low snore and the little stir of contentment Lothar had been examining fizzled into outrage. He refused to be kept up by the mage, reaching over and startling Khadgar into an aborted snort as he forced the mage more onto his side. He'd shifted onto his back and Lothar wouldn’t stand for it.

 

“Jace and Bryley snore enough for this camp, I won't have it from you too,” Lothar ordered at Khadgar's bleary, half lidded stare.

 

The mage frowned and rubbed sleepily at his eyes with his free hand. “I don't snore.”

 

Lothar snorted at that, “Yes, kid. You do.”

 

“Do not,” Khadgar muttered, already curling up to sleep again.

 

“Yes, you do.” Lothar couldn't help himself.

 

“Not,” Khadgar breathed out on an exhale.

 

Lothar was sure the mage was asleep but he snapped back, “Do,” anyway and considered his word final whether Khadgar was conscious to hear it or not.

 

The baby stirred wrathfully in the night but Khadgar moved for her without a word and Lothar rolled over to sleep again. It was only on waking to find Khadgar and the baby not there that he considered they hadn't come back at all. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr: akaiba.tumblr.com


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the sudden move Khadgar had made when he lurched up, he had shaken the baby and she gave a distressed wail, soft and then building, as Khadgar’s hold around her pressed her tight to him. His mouth parted and Lothar’s hand moved to cover it without hesitation.

_ It was only on waking to find Khadgar and the baby not there that he considered they hadn't come back at all. _ He would have noticed with how unused to sleeping by another he was, but he'd slept through to daybreak without anything waking him again. He pulled on his clothes, still buckling his armour but at least booted when he stumbled blearily into the camp.

 

Breakfast was in full swing with bowls of porridge being passed around but the conversation was hushed, like children whispering during a lesson. Confused, Lothar watched as a young warrior walked past him towards the fire. 

 

There, toasty and still fully asleep, was Khadgar. The baby was wrapped up in his arms, resting on his chest as Khadgar reclined against a log, both of them asleep and buried beneath what looked to be six blankets. Seven, Lothar corrected himself as Connelly tucked another around them. The soldiers didn't even seem particularly bothered by the sight, they'd just adjusted their speech and carried on. The coffee pot greedily passed from soldier to soldier as Lothar snagged his own cup to nurse as he sat on the log Khadgar was sleeping against.

 

Porridge made it's way into Lothar's hands from a far too bright eyed Bryley but Lothar forgave the unholy enthusiasm she had in light of the food, but it didn't stop him from grunting and scowling.

 

The baby stirred before Khadgar did and in an effort of goodness Lothar moved to take her from the mage. As the infant’s weight lifted from Khadgar the mage’s arms tightened and his eyes snapped open, blazing with arcane light as he shrugged free the piled blankets that had been wrapped around him. At the sudden move Khadgar had made when he lurched up, he had shaken the baby and she gave a distressed wail, soft and then building, as Khadgar’s hold around her pressed her tight to him. His mouth parted and Lothar’s hand moved to cover it without hesitation.

 

Khadgar blinked as his sleep addled mind caught up to what- or more importantly  _ who _ \- he was looking at and the magic he had called for dissipated, leaving only sheepish brown eyes. Lothar gave him a pointed look as he took his hand away, the baby on Khadgar’s chest now no longer merely fussing but outright yowling in her demands. Lothar let Khadgar wrestle his way from the rest of the blankets to tend to her, instead returning to his porridge as he watched Khadgar sleepily patting the baby's back.

 

Wolfing down his food in a few heaped spoonfuls, Lothar gestured for Khadgar to hand the baby to him. His mouth was still full of food, his cheeks bulging comically, but Khadgar understood and handed the wriggling infant over. Khadgar made her bottle then with both his hands free to do so, intent on his own breakfast of porridge as the milk heated by the fire. Lothar was cradling the baby in the crook of his arm as he talked to Riorgan, as practiced as when it had been Callan. It wasn't as though Lothar could get lost to that thought, however.

 

It had been a long time since Callan had been a babe in arms. Longer still since Lothar had held him like this.

 

Lothar didn't miss the baby his son had been, however. He'd been an awful father then and it had been the worst time for Lothar, a fact he knew had shaped Callan irreparably. But Lothar had still been trying to mend that with the man his son had become. He had thought maybe one day they'd get there. 

 

“-ir? Sir?” Riorgan’s voice drew Lothar back from his thoughts. The man was looking at Lothar with mild concern, but his gaze dropped to the whimpering baby Lothar had stopped rocking rather than asking after whatever he was concerned for. “I think perhaps she wants her bottle?”

 

The baby in his arms was not Callan. Her wisps of hair were black, not blonde, and her eyes were brown, not blue. 

 

And Callan was dead.

 

“Hm. So she does,” Lothar stood, grateful for the excuse to leave. They would break camp within the hour and be on the road home to Stormwind, Lothar hadn't the mind for planning beyond that currently. Though, that hardly mattered. He would be needed to plan their next move the moment they arrive back to the city. Still, Lothar thought as he ran one roughened finger over the baby’s cheek, he had peace for the moment.

 

It was almost habitual to pass her off to Khadgar however, the mage's ease with handling her and feeding her so fluid and practiced it rivalled Lothar’s own experience. It was probably better. The wet nurse had has more practice than Lothar had.

 

Lothar sat beside Khadgar where the mage was cross legged by the fire, sleepy but as focused on the baby as he would have been with a book. “You did not come back to the tent.”

 

“I fell asleep,” It was sharp and abrupt, a little too well practiced to be truth. Khadgar did not look up.

 

The warrior hummed, a sarcastic note to say he didn't believe a word of it. He stood with a telling creak to his aching legs, “We leave for Stormwind in the hour. You should teleport with her.”

 

“We stay.” Lothar made a frustrated sound but Khadgar headed him off with actual words, not the vague noises Lothar seemed happy to throw, “I've never teleported a child before. I know the principle is unchanged, the makeup is exactly the same and I know I can do it, I just… I haven't  _ done _ it. I don't want to get it wrong.”

 

That staved off the argument of trying to get the mage and the baby safely back to the city. 

 

“Fine. I am going to make a sling.”

 

Khadgar blinked up as Lothar turned to stalk away, “A what? Why?”

 

Lothar called back over his shoulder. “For the baby.”

 

To Khadgar’s complete surprise, Lothar wore it. Proudly, even. The baby burbling away in the makeshift body carry that Lothar had fashioned from scrap material.

 

“It makes more sense for me to carry her, I am a better ranged fighter and she shouldn't be in the middle of a fight,” Khadgar argued. The patrol of soldiers were already moving and Khadgar held out no real hope of actually winning this argument.

 

Lothar snorted, “We're unlikely to be under attack on the north road from here. Besides, now you can read your books.”

 

“I don't mind looking after her. I am quite capable of it,” Khadgar insisted, his horse determinedly alongside Lothar's and Lothar could see Riorgan hiding a smile at their bickering just past Khadgar's shoulder.

 

“I am sure you are, but last time I put you on a horse an Orc took it. Light forbid what might happen if you had the baby as well.”

  
Khadgar’s face screwed up as indignantly as the baby’s when she was tired. “I am not going to lose a baby, Lothar! I knew you didn't think I was capable-” The bitter muttering brightened Lothar's mood, even drawing a chuckle from him when he heard the baby across his front ‘bah’ almost as though she were joining in Khadgar's grumbling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My tumblr: akaiba.tumblr.com


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Khadgar’s hands stilled and when he sat upright his hands lifted a baby who burbled enthusiastically. Not just any baby- the baby. The little girl that Lothar distinctly remembered leaving with the orphanage's matron.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I may or may not have made their kids as my WoW babies thanks to this fic. :D

Lothar had a thousand and one things to do, ranging from patrol reports that had to have his approval signed at the bottom- so he really had to at least skim them- to requisition orders from Ironforge in exchange for their armaments, just to name the most basic requests. Then came the tactical meetings. Watching the Lieutenants translate the field reports into troop positions on the war table and with each one painting their situation more dire than the last it made for the worst part of Lothar's day. After that, the council meetings where he had to break bread with small minded dignitaries looking to talk down the Horde problem in favour of letting it be someone else's problem entirely, rather than the fledgling Alliance’s problem. Then another report would come in and the nobles would shut up so Lothar could make some headway in actually defending them all.

 

His evenings tended towards passing out while he worked at his desk, or fully clothed atop his bed. He ate whatever Taria pushed at him, though she ate little herself. He drank enough not to suffer a heavier headache than he already had, but he rarely spoke to anyone he wasn’t ordering around. Taria and he shared weary looks when they were at meetings together but mostly they passed in corridors, his sister as exhausted as he was as they hurried to where they were needed- to the people for her, and to the soldiers for him.

 

It had been three weeks since the patrol he and Khadgar had joined with returned from Westfall. In that time he had seen snatches of the mage as Khadgar, as worked as the rest of them, devoted himself to his studies. When he wasn’t studying he was arguing loudly and vehemently with other mages, porting to Dalaran or them porting to Stormwind- all of them leaving Khadgar’s presence with an earful of sarcasm and acidic remarks. Lothar had thought he had it difficult dealing with nobility, but sometimes he saw Khadgar looking ready to spit fire- something Lothar wasn’t entirely sure Khadgar couldn’t do literally- and he felt bad for the young man dragged into politics in a time of war. Politics were never easy as it was, but now neither of them had a choice in playing the game. The stakes were too high, they had to do what they could and mages and magic were definitely Khadgar’s area but also something they could really do with.

 

Still, there were moments when their eyes met across rooms as they moved around Stormwind and Lothar could see Khadgar aging in the seconds that passed. Lothar could remember the bright eyed boy he pinned to a table the moment they met and yet the man Khadgar was now in the space of no time at all was almost unrecognisable. For all they were doing, for all they were breaking themselves to achieve, Lothar looked at the war table late in the evenings and let himself have the fear that it wouldn’t be enough and sometimes he saw that in Khadgar's eyes.

 

That same fear was gnawing at him again when Lothar shoved himself roughly up from the table. He was going mad stuck in this uphill battle, one he knew he wasn’t alone in but he couldn’t feel the proof of that when he hadn’t seen a friendly face he wasn’t expected to play Commander for in weeks. Taria had finally taken an evening for herself and her children, so Lothar would not intrude but his mind was not drawn to his sister first.

 

He wanted to see Khadgar.

 

Their friendship was unlikely but Lothar wouldn’t trade it, and as much as the patrol he had last seen Khadgar properly wasn’t full of fun it had been nice to spend time with the mage. Surely Stormwind wouldn’t burn down around them if Lothar took a moment or two to talk to someone he didn’t have to be anyone but ‘Anduin’ for.

 

Despite the late hour Lothar could see the flicker of candlelight under the door to Khadgar’s room, though Lothar wasn’t surprised. Khadgar hadn’t been sleeping much either until he passed out, they had that in common.

 

The singing was unexpected, however.

 

The door was shut but Lothar could hear it, soft and surprisingly pleasant, in what could only have been Khadgar’s voice. Lothar leaned against the door to listen a moment before gripping the door handle. He didn’t want to end the song or disturb the mage so he carefully turned the well oiled handle, letting the door slip open slowly with a whisper from the hinges. He was no rogue but then neither was Khadgar and sure enough the mage did not notice Lothar enter.

 

Khadgar was kneeling on his bed, but he was hunched over doing something, his soft song hushed into the huddle of his curved over body. Lothar dared only step into the room and no further, letting the door remain ajar as he listened, so Khadgar would continue. “-she sleeps in the shirt of man, with my three wishes clutched in her hand,” Came Khadgar’s voice and his final note punctuated with a soft, gurgling coo. Khadgar huffed a laugh at the sound, his busy hands still working, as he continued, “The first that she be spared the pain, that comes from a dark and laughing rain,” Khadgar’s hands stilled and when he sat upright his hands lifted a baby who burbled enthusiastically. Not just any baby- _the_ baby. The little girl that Lothar distinctly remembered leaving with the orphanage's matron. Her little hands reached for Khadgar’s face as Khadgar added, “When she finds love may it always stay true…”

 

The mage held the final note in a low sound until the baby’s legs kicked in the long fitting shirt she was in and Khadgar gathered her close. “There, that's that much better. All clean and no more crying, right?” Khadgar turned his head to rub the coarse rasp of his sparse facial hair over her outstretched hands, “Right?” He repeated, tone light and making her laugh.

 

Lothar could feel himself smiling as he watched Khadgar with the baby, watching the mage make her laugh and handle her so easily. He couldn’t not say something, “You know, I remember leaving her at the Orphanage.”

 

Khadgar jumped as expected, curling the baby to his chest and whirling to kneel facing Lothar instead. He looked from Lothar to the baby in his arms, a little guilty at having been caught red handed. “I, ah… well… she’s attached to me,” Khadgar began, a little defensively. It sounded practiced and far too well rehearsed with how easily it slipped free, but with how little anyone saw of Khadgar when he didn't need something it stood to reason no one had asked about the baby. But of course Khadgar had been ready with an excuse.

 

“Oh? She's attached? _Just_ her?” Lothar smirked as Khadgar’s face coloured a little.

 

“She isn't sleeping at the orphanage. The matron is overworked as it is with all the other orphans, I figure I can handle this little one just fine,” Khadgar gently bounced the baby he held, the infant herself narrowing her eyes at Lothar across the room, Khadgar almost offering Lothar proof that she was better for his interference and the baby daring Lothar to do something about this.

 

Lothar moved towards the bed, drawn by the wide brown eyes fixed on him to get a closer look at the little girl. He’d not seen her since they’d handed her over. He’d been hoping some of her family might come to claim her, but the rescued possessions still remained in the Stormwind warehouse so of course she hadn’t been. There was no one, Lothar figured. The farmstead had seemed family run. It had that cosy air about it even under the blood and ash, and Lothar had counted enough bodies within the main house to make a family from them, so it was no great surprise she had no one to care for her beyond the orphanage. And well… the mage, apparently.

 

Khadgar had the face of someone fully aware of the conversation about to come and resigned to the outcome of it but wasn’t about to surrender the argument without a good deal of protesting. Lothar sighed, cupping the baby’s face and gently thumbing over her round cheek. “You can’t keep her.”

 

“Who said anything about-”

 

Lothar interrupted Khadgar wearily, “Khadgar.”

 

The mage curled his hands tighter around the baby defiantly, “Why not? She doesn’t have anyone, I don’t have anyone,” Her hand reached to smack against Khadgar’s chest and immediately she had his full attention. It made Lothar feel like he was intruding to see how the mage looked at her. “She’s been keeping me sane. She screams the orphanage down when she’s there but here... I think I’m keeping her sane too.”

 

“How long have you been doing this?” Lothar frowned. Khadgar had been smitten the moment he found her but it wasn't something Lothar had thought would go beyond a fond wistfulness once they were parted, yet here Khadgar was.

 

Khadgar paused in thought, “How long have we been back?”

 

That didn't bode well. “Three weeks.”

 

“Then three weeks,” Khadgar tickled under her chin to make her giggle, “And she’s perfectly fine, see?”

 

Despite the clear weariness, there was still fire in Khadgar’s temper and Lothar could admire that but it had been too long since Lothar slept for longer than three hours and he hadn’t the energy left to argue with the same spark that Khadgar still managed to muster. Lothar sat on the bed with a tired groan, leaning his elbows on his knees and turning to look sideways as Khadgar gingerly laid the baby down on the bed. Apparently he was satisfied Lothar wasn’t about to snatch her up and run away with her. Of the two of them the one likely to steal children was indeed the mage. “I do not doubt your ability to care for her,” Lothar said softly, trying a different approach with Khadgar’s determination, “It is more your time.”

 

“The orphanage has her during the day, I only collect her in the late afternoon and drop her off during the day. I am still doing all my work, I can even work with her here when she sleeps- I work better having her here. I don’t feel so… alone,” Khadgar trailed off at the reminder of Medivh that the word conjured. The baby’s hand latched around one of his fingers and squeezed. It was almost reassuring if she then hadn’t immediately tried to chew on it.

 

“Is that… safe?” Lothar looked around at the piled books and scrolls. Some of them had shimmering glyphs, the very ink they’d been written in imbued with enough magic to still retain it.

 

Khadgar gave Lothar a flat look. “You think I’m going to hurt her with magic?”

 

“It’s possible.”

 

“No, it is not,”

 

“Yes,” Lothar vindictively relished the way Khadgar's nose scrunched at the childish insistence, “It is.”

 

Khadgar made a frustrated sound, “Lothar, the Kirin Tor have many child apprentices, of many ages.”

 

“I don’t think you should use them as your defense for raising a child.”

 

The comment was a fair one and Khadgar's mouth clacked shut at hearing it. “‘Raising a’...” The thought seemed to throw him for a loop as he stared in shock at Lothar.

  
“Well, that is rather what you are doing by the sounds of it.”

 

“No, she… I told you, she stays at the orphanage,” Khadgar insisted.

 

Lothar shook his head, more fond than he felt he should be at his friend’s determination to argue everything, “When Callan was small I still had my duties to perform, he would stay with a nanny during the day. I would collect him in the evening and spend the night and morning with him, very like what you are doing now.”

 

“Alright, it sounds very similar. I will agree to that. But I’m not... okay, perhaps I am,” He scowled at Lothar as he petulantly added, “A little.”

 

His voice sounded so small. In it Lothar could hear the weariness and the pleading, asking for one good thing like if he loses her it'll be the last straw. Khadgar was too young for such things, and yet he really wasn't. Not after everything they'd been through.

 

“You're too attached. If someone were to claim her as kin…” Lothar trailed off softly.

 

Khadgar's brow pinched in a deep furrow as he studied the baby’s face. She had found apparent fascination in kicking her legs in the ends of the long shirt, hard enough to bounce herself as she stared up at Khadgar with no thought for their serious conversation. “I would think, if she had any kin, they would had stepped up by now if they wanted her.”

 

There was truth enough in the likelihood of it. Word of the attack had spread fast and any with ties to the land or the workers had found out one way or another. Yet here the baby remained. With slow movements so as not to anger Khadgar, Lothar lifted the baby up and held her in his arms. She was painfully small and her brown eyes so huge in her face when she looked up at the strange man holding her. Khadgar shuffled in closer, as if drawn by her, and Lothar looked over at Khadgar. The mage was kneeling on the bed with a hopelessly lost expression on his face as he looked at the baby in Lothar's arms. For all the pressure crushing them both, for all Lothar had seen time worn into Khadgar with each passing day, Khadgar looked contented. Tired, in need of a long bath and a hot meal, wearing clothes he'd worn all week, and yet never more impressive in how he kept surprising Lothar.

 

“You are going to keep stealing her away, aren’t you?”

 

Khadgar nodded, still smiling at the baby, and unrepentant now that Lothar had given up arguing, “She likes me and I like her. I am the Guardian and I will do my work as such but, well, she needs guarding.”

 

Lothar snorted, “If you say so,” The baby was making a good go of chewing on Lothar's index finger like she could will her gums to do more than simply slather his finger in spit. There were many orphans, more arriving each day, and this one had sunk her tiny, pudgy fingers around Khadgar’s heart. She could be an example that helped Khadgar visualise what they were working towards, or maybe she really was just a baby Khadgar had gotten attached to. Either way, Lothar could think of worse people to adopt a child- himself being one of them.

 

Lothar could already feel the guilt gnawing at him for all the thousand ways he’d failed Callan. It wasn't the baby’s fault that she picked at a wound that would never heal, but holding her reminded Lothar so much of what he had lost. The little one in his arms would not mend or erase that guilt, but Lothar wanted to keep spending time with Khadgar which meant the baby would likely be there. He would need to handle that. “I can help,if you have need of it,” Khadgar’s eyes widened at the offer, “She's still yours to deal with,” Lothar said it flippantly and with all the matter of fact manner he could muster, ignoring all the while how nice it was to have her nestled in the crook of his arm. It was awful of him to think that, his own son who had strived every day to be good enough for his father had felt as warm and hopeful in his arms as well but it had taken Lothar too long to put right the wrongs he'd done to Callan. This little girl wasn't his, nor was she really Khadgar’s, but still Lothar found himself hoping he might do better somehow.

 

The baby gave a cry and Khadgar lurched from the bed in response, “She’s particular with timing,” He said by way of explanation as he pulled a glass of milk into existence and then pulled a baby bottle from a drawer. Lothar watched the baby’s face scrunch up wrathfully at the lack of an immediate result, unaware of Lothar’s unmoved audience to her building wailing. Khadgar was moving like each cry she gave was it’s own fuel for his motions but Lothar raised her up, head in his palm and body lying flat along his forearm, and watched her intently.

 

“You have him wrapped around your little finger already,” Lothar murmured, voice low and lost under her plaintive cries. It didn’t matter, she couldn’t understand him to talk back anyway. “If someone does come for you, or someone does find it in their heart to adopt you… I hope he’ll survive it.”

 

Khadgar came scurrying back from across the room with a warmed bottle, the sleeves of his robes up to his elbows as he splashed milk onto his wrist and gleefully held out his arms for her. He seemed so much more animated than the snatches of him Lothar had spied during the days gone. She really was keeping him sane, Lothar mused.

 

“She’ll need a name,” Lothar pointed out as he passed over the red faced baby.

 

She immediately latched onto the bottle and fell silent as she concentrated on eating, leaving Khadgar and Lothar in blessed quiet. “I’ve never named a person before,” Khadgar admitted.

 

“I would be surprised if you had,” Lothar snorted, “Have the orphanage not named her?”

 

Khadgar’s brow furrowed, “Yes and I hate it. I refuse to use it.”

 

The smile on Lothar’s face felt fixed as he watched Khadgar and the baby, feeling infinitely lighter than when he had walked into the room. Of course Khadgar hated it and of course he wouldn’t use it, why would Lothar have expected anything else? “You’ll need to call her something.”

 

“Naming her implies I'm keeping her,” Lothar pointed out.

 

Lothar inclined his head pointedly, “Yes,” He said with weighted implication, “It does.”

 

Khadgar swallowed hard and said nothing. Lothar could empathise with that. He'd felt much the same way with Callan a squirming, freshly made speck in his arms and no real idea what to do with him. Khadgar had fought and argued to be allowed to keep seeing the baby, he had to face the implications of it as terrifying as the magnitude was.

 

“Well she's going to have a nicer name than what the orphanage gave her,” Khadgar said after a long moment.

 

“What did they call her?” The curiosity was niggling at Lothar.

 

The mage gave him a sharp look, “I am not telling you until I have an alternative because you'll use it.”

  
Lothar shrugged. Khadgar was right, he would. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “No baby this morning, Commander?”
> 
> “Why does everyone keep asking me that?” Lothar demanded with exasperation.

It was Varian who pointed out the routine. Not that it seemed to come as news to anyone but Lothar and Khadgar. Taria’s knowing look was far too wise for someone Lothar had once convinced could sneeze too hard and her brain would fall out- admittedly she had been a child, but Lothar wasn't feeling generous. 

 

“Where's the baby this morning?” Varian asked curiously as Lothar joined them for a hurried breakfast. 

 

It drew Lothar up short to be asked. He hadn't thought he'd brought the baby to breakfast enough times to warrant it being unusual for him to turn up without. He had brought her yesterday, still nameless and ever demanding to stick her hands in any bowl of food left near her too long. And the day before. He was fairly certain he hadn't brought her the day before that, but then the three days prior he had to admit she had been sat in his lap and making the task of eating infinitely harder. 

 

“Khadgar has her,” He said, like it should have been obvious. After all, Khadgar was the one who had been so determined to keep stealing her from the orphanage- though the matron was well aware where the baby was, still, Lothar had felt compelled to check on that at first.

 

So what if Lothar helped on occasion? He had been there, it was difficult managing a child by yourself and any inability to cope was seen as proof you shouldn't be allowed the child at all. While Lothar hadn't been the best dad he'd made sure Callan was taken care of. Fed, clothed, watered, and watched had been pretty much the extent he could manage so Lothar felt defensively proud of Khadgar who'd already one upped him with how much he adored the baby so openly. Lothar hadn’t been able to look at Callan without seeing his wife for too long. 

 

Taria passed him a plate she'd loaded with herbed eggs and crispy bacon for him, not even asking before she gave him a firm look and set it down before him. Lothar did not argue with that look. “Khadgar is most welcome to join us as well,” She reminded him. For the third time that week. 

 

“I am not entirely sure what Khadgar survives off but I am sure when he gets hungry he'll simply-” Lothar made an over the top and inelegant gesture complete with wiggling fingers, “Conjure something.” Though Lothar had never asked Medivh what the nutritional differences were with conjured food. He'd never cared, and Lothar wasn't entirely sure why he cared now. Perhaps because the milk Khadgar conjured in glassfuls was what the baby was surviving off. Khadgar was a grown man, he was allowed to choose to live off conjured brownies of he wished even if the thought of it made Lothar frown.

 

The conversation moved on but Lothar kept coming back to the thought. It wasn't helped when he headed to the war room and Bryley’s greeting to him was: “No baby this morning, Commander?”

 

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?” Lothar demanded with exasperation.

 

Bryley mistook the exclamation as something that required an answer as she squinted out of the window at the sun, clear of the horizon and already warming Stormwind’s streets below. “About time you dropped her with Matron Nightingale, isn't it? I don't mind following while I read you the report summaries, like usual?” She offered it gently, even in her gruff manner, like she thought he was trying to do her a favour by turning up without the baby. 

 

Lothar was slow to blink as he stared at her and repeated, “‘Like usual’?”

 

Bryley nodded, an indulgent smile on her face. She seemed to think Lothar just particularly tired or overworked, not completely blindsided by what had apparently become his new normal without him even noticing. “Matron and her daughter run a tight ship at that orphanage, it wouldn't do to be late after all,” Bryley chuckled a little nervously and Lothar remembered how Bryley had ducked her head and stammered to the Nightingale girl, Penny if Lothar remembered. And he did, he realised with a shock, because he'd seen Bryley stumble over herself to the woman enough times for it to have become memorable. 

 

“She's… she's with Khadgar,” Lothar mumbled.

 

Lothar didn't know what reaction he was expecting but it wasn't for Bryley to hum like she was foolish not to have thought of that. It bothered Lothar even more to see Bryley just accepted the obviousness of the baby being with Khadgar if she wasn't with Lothar. It shouldn't be like that, it was Khadgar’s foolhardy idea to get so cripplingly attached to a child he couldn't possibly keep. Lothar was simply helping out. 

 

Callan’s crib hadn't been doing much more than collecting dust and digging into festered emotional wounds whenever Lothar caught sight of it. It was better in Khadgar's room for the baby than sitting in a disused room in Lothar’s house- a house he almost never visited any more- so it made sense, it was simply logical. It had, however, been as much of Callan he had been willing to part with so of course he'd bought a toy for her to be all her own. It had been sitting on a market stall with a pink haired gnome cheerily wiggling the Elk’s ears at Lothar until he'd bought it as much for the baby as to get the gnome to stop. Aside from that, Lothar didn't exactly mind the baby either so offering to be the one to take her to the orphanage occasionally was just a favour for Khadgar that Lothar didn’t mind doing. 

 

It was all very sensible and unremarkable to Lothar's mind, he couldn't understand why anyone was commenting like he had somehow found himself the other parent in Khadgar's doomed attachment. The mage was only going to be crushed when someone who could give her safety and stability came along to adopt her and Lothar wasn't looking forward to that eventuality. He was just helping in the meantime. That was all.

 

“In that case, Commander, this arrived from Redridge this morning,” Bryley handed him a report and like that the moment was gone. For Bryley at least. The work took over but Lothar could feel the perplexed itch at the back of his mind at having apparently developed a routine without even noticing it. 

 

Eventually, as Lothar read, his mind drifted almost entirely to work. It might have been a tiny bit satisfying to bark orders and have people scrambling to make it happen when he felt on a defensive footing, but Lothar figured he was entitled to the little things when the little things were all anyone had lately. Another farm in Westfall had been raised and Riorgan was doing his best to defend and pushback the few determined orc parties encroaching. There didn’t seem to be too many trying to make a push through Westfall, a distraction effort if anything, but the damage was real and Stormwind could not allow the attacks to go unchallenged. Bryley had gone a while ago to pass on word to one of the Knight-Lieutenant’s that she would need to take a contingent of soldiers to the Redridge Mountains as soon as possible to help on that front while Riorgan was petitioning for more to be sent to Westfall. There were only so many men to be sent anywhere, a fact that did not erase the need for more men, and Lothar had barely sat down in a seat before another messenger was hurrying towards him.

 

The barely grown boy had a weak chin and a tiny gap in his front teeth that Lothar could see as the boy halted before him to suck in breath. His uniform hung from like someone had wrapped it around a fence post rather than a person and Lothar felt a pang of grief for him somehow having made it into Stormwind’s ranks during a time of war such as they were facing. It suddenly put the need for soldiers into stark reality of what that meant- boys in armour being sent to die. He looked younger than Callan. Or younger than Callan had been, Lothar reminded himself with the same twinge. Lothar felt the need to recommend this boy to the city guard, just so he could ease that knot of grief. Callan had stubbornly refused but maybe Lothar could save this boy the same fate. It wouldn't erase that guilt, it would just drive home how much he'd failed Callan, but Lothar couldn't look at the boy’s knobbly knees and picture him facing down an orc.

 

“Report, private…?” Lothar asked, already rising from his seat to face the pink-cheeked, gasping boy. 

 

“Private Brady,” Brady took a deep inhale before drawing up and saluting, “Sir!” He hurried to add.

 

Lothar checked the boy’s hands and raised an eyebrow at the lack of an actual physical document. “Well? Report…?” Lothar had watched the midday sun come and pass with little to mark it but yet more tactical planning, distribution of men, and supplies. He was out of patience for men greener than the villages they'd likely come from. 

 

Brady’s eyes went wide and rounded before he stammered out, “Ah! I-I don't… it's not a report exactly, s-sir. I have a message.”

 

“From…?” Lothar grit his teeth. 

 

“Oh!” Brady floundered, “I-I, well, from Bryley but she couldn't come come herself because she’s still-”

 

“Talking with Knight-Lieutenant Riorgan, yes. I know. I sent her there.”

 

“She thought you might like to know the Guardian Khadgar has returned from Dalaran with the baby,” Brady visibly swallowed with relief at having finally bumbled his way to completing his task. 

 

Lothar’s irritation vanished at the news as instead his brow furrowed with confusion. “From Dalaran?”

 

“Uh… yes? Um, sir.”

 

“Where are they?” Lothar had no right to interfere with Khadgar's choices in regards to the baby. He was still firmly maintaining the baby was all Khadgar's responsibility, but every detail pried from Khadgar about his time with the Kirin Tor made Lothar uncomfortable with mages being near children. Specifically the lofty, self obsessed and power focused mages in Dalaran. Khadgar’s magey self seemed fine with children.

 

Brady paled at the question, his mouth parted like some felicitous intervention might conjure the information to fall free despite apparently not having a clue. 

 

Lothar waved Brady off as Lothar passed him in quick strides. “Nevermind. Dismissed, Private.” He was definitely going to be recommending Brady for the city guard.

 

It wasn't as though there were many places Khadgar was likely to be, and even fewer if he had the baby in tow, so Lothar checked the library first and barely halted when he saw no signs of Khadgar or the baby. That left only the Throne room if Khadgar had returned with news to report directly to Taria, or his room. The guest rooms were closer, between the royal wing where Taria, Varian and Lothar stayed, and the Throne room, so Lothar went there first. He wasn't sure why he was in such a hurry but it was important, Lothar felt, and he had a lot of frustrated energy to walk off after a stressful morning. His brask walk had the downside of almost running him headlong into Khadgar as the mage turned a corner the same time he did.

 

Khadgar had the sling Lothar had recommended he purchase wrapped around his chest with his heavy cloak over the top to pull around and warm the baby if needed, but the baby seemed content curled against Khadgar's chest with his small academic hands spread across her back. The mage jerked back in surprise before Lothar could slam into him- though the baby would have taken the brunt of it- and Lothar caught Khadgar by his shoulders to ensure the mage stayed steady. 

 

“Lothar!” Khadgar breathed it somewhere between shock and relief, his shoulders sagging under Lothar's hands as the mage gave him a tired smile. “We were coming to find you,” The mage bounced the baby who craned her neck to stare at Lothar with her big brown eyes. She eyed him blankly for a moment before seeming to remember who he was and reach one chubby hand out to him.  

 

“You were?” Lothar let the baby latch onto his finger without thought as he watched Khadgar’s round cheeks dimpled with the smile draw wider, as though he couldn't be happier Lothar was there.

 

“Yes, Varian said you were still in the war room so I thought I would come and tell you the good news.”

 

Lothar raised an eyebrow, “Good news? I was told you took the little one to Dalaran, I must admit good news was not what I was expecting.”

 

Khadgar laughed at that, absently pressing a kiss to the top of the baby’s wispy dark hair. “I cannot tell you how entertaining it is watching a room full of stuffy old mages huff and tutt at a crying baby while still unsure they want to further alienate themselves from the Guardian. We had a great time, didn't we?”

 

The baby gurgled something far removed from speech as she dribbled a string of saliva onto Khadgar’s powder blue robe. Lothar chuckled, “You were terrorising the Kirin Tor, then?” 

 

“Partly. They’re still determined that the Horde are not their problem but more than half of the council are inclined to listen to me at least. While I was there, however, I managed to get someone to accurately tell me her age- and better still, her birthday!” 

 

Lothar could see it now; Khadgar throwing the most bizarre birthday parties with no concept of what they should actually contain because he could barely remember what they were like. It would be an utter disaster but a fun one, Lothar thought. Part of him couldn't wait with how excited Khadgar looked. He had no mind for the fact they were stood in a corridor, closer than was strictly necessary, and he hadn't stopped smiling since Khadgar beamed up at him in relief. Maybe he'd missed his routine more than he thought, Lothar mused as let the baby chew on his index finger. Maybe he was a little attached, despite his best efforts.

 

“How old is she?” 

 

Khadgar looked gleeful, “Almost one!”

 

“What? But she's so…”

 

“Small? I got them to check twice but they were very sure. She'll be one in a few months, she's just so…”

 

“Small,” Lothar agreed, “Huh,” He grunted in slow surprise as he stared down at the little girl gnawing on him. Perhaps she wasn't quite the baby he kept referring to her as, but when Khadgar had yet to name her it was better than ‘kid that Khadgar has kind of stolen with indulgent permission’. Lothar had rather thought her a very hungry baby, which made sense if she should have been eating soft solids, but Lothar hadn't seen any sign of walking or attempting to walk from her, and of course she was so much smaller than Lothar would have expected from an almost one year old. 

 

“How did you find this out?” Khadgar opened his mouth and inhaled for what would undoubtedly be a fascinating explanation but Lothar cut him off, “Nevermind. Mage things, I am sure?”

 

Khadgar gave him a withering eye roll, “Yes, Lothar. ‘Mage things’.” 

 

Wordlessly, Khadgar began to ease the sling from around his back and shoulders so that he could pass the baby to Lothar's waiting hands. Lothar had missed her, and the keenness of it only became apparent as she kicked her newly freed legs against his chest and latched her hands immediately in his hair. 

 

Khadgar tossed the sling over one arm and rushed to his rescue, “Hey, hey, that's not nice, little one!” Khadgar clicked his tongue against his teeth in scolding as he tried to unwind her hands from Lothar's hair but only really succeeded in making her more determined to hold on. 

 

Balancing her on his hip Lothar waved Khadgar off, “I hardly think her strong enough to do any- ow, hey!” Lothar winced but couldn't help laughing at the fierce yank the baby gave him, as if contradicting his words. Chastised, Lothar wiggled his hair free from her grasp and settled her lower in his hip so she couldn't reach. “Not a word, mage,” Lothar raised a warning eyebrow at Khadgar but he was still smiling. 

 

“I wouldn't dream of it,” Khadgar smirked, clearly promising he had not only dreamed of it but Taria would know within the hour. Traitor. 

 

They fell into step as they continued walking, this time heading to Lothar’s rooms where he knew he would find food awaiting him. Most days it went cold and untouched but Lothar figured between himself and Khadgar they could- and  _ should _ \- probably finish it.

 

The baby chewed on Lothar's finger in lieu of the fistful of hair she had seized, her gums determinedly grinning against his knuckles with her nose scrunched in determination. It was a face intent on achieving something, though what that something was was unlikely to be more than a very wet finger for Lothar to wipe discretely on Khadgar’s robe. Callan had had a few teeth by her age, but then she was so small that she seemed to be a late bloomer in every sense. Lothar could feel nubs of teeth in her gums, however, and anticipated teething to be becoming a serious problem iminently. Khadgar still seemed energised from what was no doubt a heated meeting in Dalaran so Lothar listened to the mage's exciting chatter until they neared Lothar's quarters. 

 

It struck Lothar, as he watched Khadgar open the door for them and make himself at home on the couch, that the mage had become a fixture in his daily routine now. The mage and his baby. 

 

_ The _ baby. Lothar frowned at himself, now he too was thinking of her as Khadgar’s. Though, he still wasn't sure why people thought of her as Lothar’s as well. 

 

It was usually the evenings when Khadgar would come by with the baby in arms after bringing her from the orphanage. She would be freshly fed and squeaky clean, usually between them as they sat before the fire and talked a while. At first, Khadgar hadn't stayed more than ten minutes, but lately it was much later before Khadgar would bid him goodnight. 

 

What struck Lothar hardest was how completely unremarkable it was to see Khadgar pulling out a blanket from one of Lothar's trunk to lay out for the baby. It was habitual- as mundane as it was to have the baby balanced on his hip. Nice, yes, but not strange. Though Lothar could admit that having things for the baby in his room contradicted the notion he wasn’t as involved with the baby as he kept insisting he was. Logically, again, it made sense to have things for her here if she was to be here, but that only made it more suspect with how much time she must be spending at his. 

 

“Lothar?” Khadgar's voice drew Lothar to the couch, “Everything alright?”

 

Lothar sat down beside Khadgar, gratified to see the plate of food sat warm on the table by Khadgar’s arm. He set the baby in his lap even though Khadgar had laid out the blanket for her. He'd missed her that morning, perhaps more so with everyone so readily commenting on her absence.

 

“Yes, I… it has been a long morning but I am fine,” He nodded his head to the food, “Feel free to help yourself.”

 

The mage did but he passed over to Lothar just as much as he took for himself, and between them they made a game of seeing what soft foods the baby would accept to gnaw on instead of Lothar's fingers. She may have been a late bloomer in having them push through but she didn’t appear to let that stop her. It was rather entertaining watching her scrunch her face at the sharpness of an orange slice Khadgar held, but fiercely refuse to let go of it.

 

A content sort of quiet wrapped itself around them, broken only by their chuckling at her reactions to food, until Khadgar spoke up, “I, uh… I've thought of a name. If you want to… um, if you would like to hear it,” Khadgar began hesitantly. His voice was unsure as the mage urged himself to speak and Lothar wondered how his approval over it could matter to Khadgar after he'd so vehemently denied use of the orphanage's name for the baby.

 

Lothar shrugged lazily for Khadgar to continue, “I would hear it.”

 

“I… I, well... Daina. I want to call her Daina but it’s short for something, and I’m not sure you’ll approve.”

 

Intrigued, Lothar sat up straighter and nodded for Khadgar to continue. The mage looked so fidgety that Lothar refused to move until Khadgar explained in case he scared the mage off. “Daina’s nice… why wouldn’t I approve?” Lothar offered.

 

“I, well… I was reading-”

 

“Of course you were.”

 

Khadgar continued with a sharp glare, “-about Thoradin.”

 

Lothar’s eyebrows rose sharply. It wasn’t entirely remarkable that Khadgar had found a book mentioning Thoradin but for Khadgar to want to name the baby after him was a little stranger. It was, after all, an ancestor of Lothar’s and only furthered the tie that Lothar seemed to have to her- a tie he had never intended to have. “And… you got Daina, from that?” He asked slowly.

 

“Thordaina, actually,” Khadgar tipped up the orange slice as the baby kept chewing on it, “Daina seemed easier to say, but the full would be Thordaina. If… if you don’t, well… if you don’t mind?”

 

There was a warning here, Lothar thought. Khadgar was far too attached to a baby he couldn’t possibly keep and he was naming her after an ancestor of Lothar’s. Lothar knew that gnawing worry in his gut and he knew it well enough to heed it as his instinct was usually correct. But looking at Khadgar finally contented- when all around them were enough reasons to fall apart- Lothar couldn’t take it from his friend. 

 

Daina’s eyes were wide as she focused with all her might on the orange slice, uncaring of the moment of her naming as Khadgar looked down at her rather than Lothar’s face.

 

“Alright,” Lothar said, ignoring the worry in his gut as he held out his finger for the baby to squeeze her hand around, “Thordaina it is.” So what if it furthered the idea that he was as much father as Khadgar was? It was no one’s business, really. Lothar liked the kid, and he liked Khadgar. 

 

Khadgar's head jerked up in surprise, “Really? You don't think it's…”

 

“A little unusual? Sure, but I suppose it suits her,” Lothar grinned at her orange juice smeared face and offered her a cut of banana instead. It was immediately crushed into her fist until mashed banana pushed through the gaps of her chubby fingers. “That's a good girl, you're gonna grow up and wear that name well,” Lothar teased, “Daina,” He tried the name out thoughtfully, “It suits her.”`

 

“I really thought this was going to be a more difficult conversation,” Khadgar admitted, nibbling on a cold cut of chicken.

 

Lothar shrugged and dodged the fist of mashed fruit almost slammed into his face as Daina, oblivious and delighted with how things had turned in regards to food, happily sucked on the mess on her hand. “I do not own the name, and there are worse heroes to be named for. Now,” Lothar perked up like an excited child as he determinedly switched topics, “You promised me the name the orphanage gave her?”

 

Khadgar may not have been Daina’s biological father but the way he wrinkled his nose in disgust was entirely the same, “Mildred,” He bit out with dripping disdain.

 

The Lion of Azeroth held out mere seconds before snorting in laughter and looking down at the baby in his lap. “Mildred?!” Lothar wheezed.

 

“Does she look like a Mildred to you?!” Khadgar’s indignant tirade had an audience now and despite Lothar's sputtering snorts, Khadgar kept going, “Many fine people have been named Mildred, I am sure, but in what world does that seem a fitting name for Daina?! She is not a ‘Mildred’!”

  
Daina raised her spit slicked but mostly food free hand in protest, asking for more with her poor hand eye coordination, but appearing to agree with Khadgar in a way that had Lothar creasing into laughter. It felt good. It felt sore and alien and unused, but good in a way Lothar had missed so much as to feel new again. This, he realised, was good. Sitting on the couch with Khadgar and Daina and pretending for one moment that this was the whole world. Lothar never wanted to leave that moment.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The flood of warmth in Lothar’s chest wasn’t easily explained as Khadgar’s worn face split into a grateful smile and he let Lothar enter. There were few enough reasons to feel anything good in Lothar’s day to day, so perhaps it was simply that: relief at seeing a friend made better by his actions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kind of a little one but I sort of had to split this one into two. I've been agonising over how to write this for ages now and I'm still not sure I did this right but fingers crossed it feels right.

When the bad days happened, they happened in succession. Lothar could count on one hand the number of meals he'd been able to have over the last few days but it wasn't something he even thought about, not when he'd been so sure they had almost reached a stability. 

 

The raiding parties were slowing as more of them were cut down and defeated. The orcs seemed content with making a home, and while uncomfortably close to Elwynn Forest it was a breath of relief between the body counts. Lothar had been willing to work with it, for now. There were troops to train and resources to mass, weapons need to be forged and armour smithed- never mind fitted to men and women Lothar had to make sure weren't too green to wear it. They were at war and it took a toll, in every conceivable way. Lothar was hardly prepared to sit down and discuss peace even if the orcs were to offer it at this point, but time enough to rebuild? To repair the damages done? Lothar would- and had- taken that. Taria had agreed it the best course of action. They had to look inwards and find strength to press on, but they couldn't do that simply by throwing soldiers at the orcs and hoping they came out on top this time. The ache of betrayal and rage Lothar had been trying to contain in the months since King Llane’s murder at the hands of Garona wouldn’t let him sit at ease with the orcs, perhaps not ever, but he was not so blinded by it that he would grind Stormwind’s people into a bloody grave because of it. The elves and the dwarves with their removed apathy towards the situation helped remind him that not everyone felt it as personally as he did, much as it sometimes meant wanting to shake them. However, the orcs had not been idle as they carved out a home. They were building and massing and if the scout reports were to be believed, this war would not be won any time soon.

 

_ If we win it at all _ , Lothar thought. Cold ran down his spine as he rejected the thought. They would not fall, Lothar would not allow it. His mind went immediately to Khadgar and Daina. Her first birthday had come and gone, marked with a muted but heartfelt celebration in Khadgar's own rooms. Taria and Varian had made sure they had time to come and wish the little girl well, Taria had even had some clothes made for Daina. Varian had held Daina with all the skill of someone wrangling a wet cat and Taria had been clearly missing Llane at the familial event, but it had been… nice. It had been family and home and as much warmth as Lothar had felt in a really, really long time. And this, Lothar thought as he clenched the paper in his hands tighter, threatened that. It threatened them all but the anger Lothar felt at the idea they might lose? That Daina might not see her next birthday? That Khadgar might not pleadingly ask him to sing ‘happy birthday’ because he didn't know the tune well enough? Might not beam and clap his hands to a delighted Daina while Taria held Varian close and they all smiled?

 

No. He would protect them. He would protect all of Stormwind’s people to his very last breath.

 

But Light, he needed a drink.

 

Lothar wasn't a drunk. He didn't stew in alcohol until he had to be peeled from barroom floors and sent on his way with a pitying head shake from an innkeeper. He was the Lion of Azeroth, brother to the Queen, brother in law to the late King, and now; Lothar was Regent Lord until Varian came of age. He served Stormwind’s people at Queen Taria’s side. Were he to be rolling into a gutter every night as he attempted to pickle himself, someone might take offense at his position of authority- certainly at his being a tactician- and there were enough diplomatic emissaries trying to manoeuvre around Lothar that they would use something like that against him without hesitation.

 

Still, there were reasons enough to enjoy a drink in the evening and lately there had been yet more reasons to justify drinking and never stopping but Lothar hadn't. He couldn’t.

 

He hadn't gotten drunk since Callan died.

 

No, that didn't justify it. 

 

Since Callan was killed in front of him and the Horde Warchief lauded Callan’s death as though victory over a young boy made him anything but a beast. Since Lothar drank as much as he could permit while knowing he had to be fight ready the next day no matter what. Since not even that amount dulled the pain or memories or his failings. Since Garona’s mouth against his tasted like ale and grief and all the wrong places at the wrong time. Since he remembered anything but betrayal when Lothar recalled Garona.

 

But he had never been a particularly drunken man before that, nor a remarkably sober one- he enjoyed a drink when he liked and sometimes to excess when he needed to feel numb. Not like Khadgar. 

 

That thought made Lothar smile. He stood from his desk and looked to the sky. The moons were full and heavy in the sky, something comforting in their cool light that Lothar relished. It felt like a moment of isolation, but a welcome one. A breath of peace that wasn’t real but he treasured all the same. He wasn’t exactly a poetic man but with everything he had been dealing with lately, it was remarkable to simply stand and look at the moon. 

 

It also meant it was late. Late enough that Khadgar would still be awake, because he usually was, but late enough that he could slip away from the endless heap of reports and not feel too guilty for it. He stopped by the kitchens, or rather took a long winded detour right to them, to snag a bottle of wine from the keep’s cellar. It was a decent enough vintage but certainly not one that would be missed, and while Lothar preferred a good ale or a sweet mead he knew Khadgar was more partial to wine. It wasn’t bribery, either, Lothar realised as he began to make his way back up to the guest wing. With intriguing realisation Lothar admitted he just wanted to see Khadgar smile. He hadn’t done a great deal of it lately if it wasn’t only to do with Daina, the infant still so small as to almost be a concern but lighting up Khadgar’s eyes with delight every time she so much as breathed, and Lothar realised he wanted to change that. He couldn’t win this war in one sweeping campaign, and in truth he feared he was simply slowing their inevitable demise, but he could rap his knuckles softly on Khadgar’s door and wordlessly slosh the bottle of wine when Khadgar opened it.

 

The flood of warmth in Lothar’s chest wasn’t easily explained as Khadgar’s worn face split into a grateful smile and he let Lothar enter. There were few enough reasons to feel anything good in Lothar’s day to day, so perhaps it was simply that: relief at seeing a friend made better by his actions. 

 

“It’s like you knew I was having a bad day,” Khadgar murmured, voice low and soft in that way that meant Daina was sleeping. Lothar’s eyes flicked over to Callan’s old crib to check and saw the soft black baby hair stuck at odd angles as she’d moved in her sleep, but still very much away in her dreams. The twist of guilt Lothar felt each time he looked at Daina with affection was slowly lessening, just a little. He still thought of Callan and he still missed his son fiercely, but he could separate Daina from that. It wasn’t her fault Lothar had been an awful father and he had no interest in making her ever think he could not be a good uncle figure for her, if Khadgar approved. Lothar had done well by Varian, at least. Perhaps it was just the ‘father’ element that he lacked. 

 

“Aren’t they all bad days of late?” Lothar returned, his voice as low as Khadgar’s as the mage popped the cork off the bottle.

 

He toasted it to Lothar, “I’ll drink to that,” he murmured as he pressed the bottle to his mouth and took a slow sip.

 

When he held it out to Lothar, Lothar realised he had brought no glasses. He hadn’t even thought to bring any and then chosen not to. He had only brought the bottle. Khadgar’s lips were smeared red with a drop of wine he hadn’t kept in his mouth and Lothar felt trapped watching the mage drag the back of his hand over it, pulling his lower lip as Khadgar pushed the door closed. The rim of the bottle was wet, with wine or Khadgar’s mouth or perhaps both, and Lothar was alarmingly aware of the way his tongue slid out to lick his own lips. There was a coil of something warm in his belly and he hadn’t had even a drop of wine to excuse it as anything else.

 

Then, Lothar remembered Garona. 

 

He remembered the earnesty he had seen in her, the feel of her body held against his and her mouth on his. It had felt  _ real _ , he had believed he knew her. Maybe the frauntess of the situation they had been in had pushed him to act faster than he might have, but he hadn’t seen in her a deceitful nature. 

 

And he had been wrong. Khadgar still believed in her but he hadn’t seen the dagger when it was still jammed into Llane’s neck. 

  
Lothar didn’t exactly believe Khadgar about to kill one of them, not at all, but he squashed the curling flicker of ‘something’ in his belly with all the ire of a man too many times broken. Better never to let it grow, Lothar thought. He was lonely, that much even he knew, and he would not spoil a good friendship with a good man for another mistake. 

 

“Lothar?” Khadgar asked, startling Lothar into looking up from the scowl he was giving the wine bottle.

 

“Hmm?”

 

Khadgar was leaning over the side of the crib, moving the Elk toy Lothar had bought her closer to her reach. “I’ve been talking to you, are you… are you alright?”

 

The idea seemed absurd as Lothar pushed it down further. He wouldn’t think on it any further than a very exhausted, very foolish thought that had crept in wildly. “Tired, but I’m fine,” He toasted the bottle to Khadgar as the mage had done to him.

 

His mouth closed around the bottle rim and Lothar felt far too aware of it until the wine hit his tongue and then it was much easier to ignore. It was warm all the way down his throat and burned away the idiotic notion even more; it was comforting. Khadgar was nodding at him a little unsure but politely not pushing for more when Lothar pulled the bottle away. Lothar held it out without thought and Khadgar came, gratefully, to take another mouthful. 

 

Lothar watched Khadgar lift the bottle and with a sharp spike of awareness he looked at Khadgar’s mouth opening to take it, the bottle still wet from Lothar’s mouth this time, and that flicker of ‘something’ in Lothar’s gut was back like he’d never denied it at all. 

 

“Fuck,” Lothar grunted.

 

Khadgar swallowed and made an inquisitive noise, “Hm?” He held out the bottle, “Long day?”

  
Lothar greedily pulled it back, “Something like that.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Burying someone he couldn't live without or losing someone he'd let close enough to hurt him, either way he lets himself hurt and be hurt and he… he can't. Besides, he can't think of a worse match for Khadgar than himself. So… that's that.

The mage had enjoyed wine before, apparently, but never having had unbridled access to as much as he might have liked to try as he did being in Stormwind’s keep meant he didn't know his limit. Khadgar wasn't a drunk in the making as much as Lothar wasn’t l, but he indulged without thinking because he'd never  _ had _ to think before and it was Lothar who wound up intervening.

 

“Someone has a child to wake for during the night,” Lothar reminded Khadgar as he moved the wine to the side table furthest from a very rosy cheeked Khadgar. 

 

The mage pouted but made no more than a halfhearted attempt to reach for the jug, settling instead on his side and curled into the couch. With his legs tucked up and his robe bunched around him he looked like a warm, round ball of tipsy mage. “ _ You _ do not, however,” Khadgar pointed out with the slow deliberateness of a man who thought he had said something particularly insightful and clever. Lothar was finding it difficult not to chuckle at every move the inebriated young man made, Khadgar endearingly oblivious that he was in any way entertaining in his actions. As it was Lothar couldn't keep himself from smiling slightly.

 

“I do not want a hangover to worsen my day tomorrow,” Lothar returned with shake of his head. He was looking forward to Khadgar’s foul temper tomorrow even from so few glasses. There were no spells a mage might know to cure a hangover- and if there were Lothar could recall numerous occasions Medivh might have had to use one- and a priest would simply send Khadgar on his way as the hangover would be it's own lesson. Daina was sleeping peaceful in Callan’s old crib, her little fist curled around the tusk of the Elk plushie Lothar had bought for her. Lothar had offered to help watch her, and he supposed it had been his idea to bring wine so perhaps sleeping on the couch to get up for Daina fell under his responsibility now. It was  _ technically _ his fault why Khadgar might have trouble doing that.

 

Khadgar had fallen strangely silent at Lothar's words but Lothar didn't notice until the mage spoke, “Things are getting worse, aren't they?” Lothar looked over at Khadgar and found the man’s face melancholic. Khadgar had spoken as though the problem was no more dire than an inconvenience but his face bore all the worries Lothar knew he held himself.

 

“Hm, definitely should have cut you off the wine sooner,” Lothar remarked in lieu of an answer. He had come here to forget the worries that plagued him daily, not marinate in them. Khadgar and Daina had become a reprieve from it all.

 

“Lothar-” Lothar had stood up and didn't look to be in any mood to continue talking about what Khadgar wanted to discuss, but Khadgar paid that no mind and Lothar can't say he expected Khadgar too. The mage had a habit of that lately. “I am not a child, Lothar.”

 

Lothar moved over to Daina as though he had simply meant to check on her. His nonchalance was about as believable as Khadgar’s facial hair making him seem older, but just as Khadgar didn't seem inclined to shave it Lothar stuck to the movement as though he could wait Khadgar out. “I never said you were, bookworm.” He probably could wait Khadgar’s rambling out, mostly by reminding the mage not to wake the baby if it came to it. Daina looked so painfully small in the crib and Lothar frowned at her, though he had to admit his frown was more for Khadgar's insistent pressing. Malnutrition was cropping up among Stormwind’s citizens as food became less plentiful with the orcs targeting so many villages, small holdings, and farms so it stood to reason that perhaps Daina’s family had been struggling. Now she was here with them Lothar knew Khadgar would make sure she was fed properly and maybe she would always be small but she would still be better off than in the drawer Khadgar had found her in.

 

He traced the tips of his fingers over the crown of her head, watching her sleep slackened face shift as her mouth pursed and then relaxed again. It took Lothar a moment to realise Khadgar had fallen silent when it had been what Lothar hoped for but truly didn't expect to happen. Of course, then he made the mistake of turning to look at the mage, rather than simply taking his leave. Khadgar was scowling at the rug in front of the fire with something that looked suspiciously like hurt and Lothar didn’t know what to do with that. 

 

The silence did not last long; “You know, you call me ‘bookworm’ when you want me to shut up and do as you say,” Khadgar pointed out with a bitter edge.

 

“It’s a nickname,” Lothar objected.

 

“I'm sure,” Khadgar drawled, “Your timing with it is interesting, however.”

 

Turning away from the crib but not moving closer to Khadgar, Lothar shook his head at the mage. “You're drunk. You're reading way too much into a nickname.” Though Lothar knew that even if the nickname was affectionate, he had used it in a way that was meant to be final. It became less of a nickname then and more of a put down, but Lothar wasn't going to admit it.

 

“No,” Khadgar stood from the couch with a pronounced sway to his movements but to his credit he managed to reach upright without aid, “You-!” He pointed a finger in accusation, “- don't trust me!”

 

Of all the accusations Lothar might have expected, and also been ready to privately concede maybe had weight, that wasn't one of them. “What- I-…! Of course I trust you!”

 

“No you don't! You keep me out all the time!” 

 

It was apparent to Lothar that he had entirely too little wine, and Khadgar too much, for this conversation to make any sense. If anything it seemed like senseless venting on Khadgar's part but wine loosened tongues, it didn't fill them with lies, so Lothar was struggling to find the point in this line of accusations, when Khadgar continued.

 

Swaying in place the mage glared fiercely at Lothar, “You never share your fears or worries with me, you never want to know me- not how friends might. We fight together sure, we work together, but you call us friends and we're not! We were closer friends when-...” A sober moment of hesitation bit off Khadgar's vitriol, but not enough to lessen his wobbling but firmly squared off stance. 

 

“‘When’ what, Khadgar?” Lothar asked calmly but it was a calm before a storm, the blankness of his face at odds with the swell of emotion in his eyes. He was fairly sure he could guess what Khadgar would say next and that meant that Khadgar had a point if Lothar knew his words by the sting of guilt in them, even unsaid.

 

Khadgar swallowed before he spoke again, but he held his chin firmly up as if refusing to be cowed, “When Garona was here.” The silence that followed felt dangerous and barbed, a knot of pain that Lothar refused to deal with until Stormwind was not at war twisting in his chest. Khadgar paid it no mind, and Lothar had a feeling he wouldn’t have whether drunk or not. “You… you haven't been the same. I get that you are hurt and I don't… I just… it feels like you shut me out,” Khadgar paused again but he didn't seem to understand Lothar's silence as the warning it was, “It’s like you're here but not, when you're here like this. The only time you say much is about Daina and it's not… it’s not… I want you to trust me…” Khadgar’s teeth bit into his lower lip but when he released it Lothar could see it wobble as the mage’s voice trembled, “You're the only friend I have.”

 

“Oh no,” Lothar breathed. Tension and the unbidden readiness for the fight Khadgar had been pushing them towards bled out of him in surprise. Khadgar wouldn't...

 

Khadgar’s lower lip wobbled with even more of a threat and Lothar felt panic grip him as the mage’s eyes filled. There was a breath of suspense as Lothar prayed Khadgar wouldn't do it but of course, there was enough wine to have spurred it this far so in the next moment Khadgar choked on a wretched sound and the suspense was broken.

 

“No, no, no,” Lothar mumbled as he watched Khadgar inhale.

 

Then, the mage was crying in as much earnest as drunken confusion allowed. With wooden, jerking movements born of being completely out of his depth Lothar clapped his hands over the mage's shuddering shoulders. 

 

“... uh, hey, don't-...” Lothar managed to stop himself from simply saying ‘don't cry’ but he didn't have more than that to offer really. Too much wine, all Lothar's fault really, and a very tired and overworked mage didn't make for a fun drunk it turned out but then Lothar knew himself that he wouldn't be much company if he were to be drunk right now. Khadgar just went over his limits and he was expressing the things he'd kept bottled up as best he could. It would all be forgotten in the morning.

 

The truths Lothar could still feel in Khadgar's words wouldn't shake free easy, but maybe Lothar could work on that without some delving heart-to-heart conversation. Lothar didn't do those.

 

Khadgar bowed his head, seeming to bow it in defeat, but the motion didn't stop until the top of Khadgar's head met Lothar's chest. He hiccuped thickly on another sob and Lothar could feel it as the mage shuddered against him. 

 

It would all be forgotten in the morning, Lothar reminded himself. Gingerly, he moved his arms. With no more grace but a good deal more sheepish uncertainty Lothar managed to move his hands from where he had put them on Khadgar's shoulders. Palms flat on Khadgar's back instead, Lothar pulled the mage closer and held him. He knew he wasn't the only one this war was affecting but Lothar couldn't shake the feeling that maybe he had failed Khadgar in some fashion. 

 

It felt like a similar feeling to how he'd failed Callan. Not comparable in weight but the guilt tasted the same. Like he'd gone through all the motions without really feeling it, or even being present for it. Lothar enjoyed the time he spent with Khadgar, and with Daina too, but it had been for the selfish reason that he needed it to go back to his work feeling grounded. Some of Khadgar's accusations stung because they had merit, not because they were untrue, and wasn't that awful? Beyond his nephew and his sister, Khadgar and now Daina were all Lothar had. He was already ruining that.

 

Fortunately, if such a thing could be said about Khadgar’s incorrigible mouthy attitude, Khadgar didn't seem inclined to let him get away with it. There was always the chance that Khadgar let the whole thing lie tomorrow, but something told Lothar that was wishful thinking. Ever since ordering Lothar in Stormwind’s dungeon, Khadgar had grown increasingly comfortable challenging Lothar. 

 

The flicker of heat Lothar had squashed earlier came back but it came back with an image.

 

Of Garona squaring up to him and looking down at him like she'd like nothing better than to bring him to kneel, and the heat that look had pulled from him. Garona unmoved by his fastening of her armour, as though his attending to her was precisely where she expected him to be. Then, sharper than the fresh wound of pain Garona made, a deeper ache Lothar couldn't stomach of golden hair and a victorious laugh, of Lothar lying on his back, dazed, staring up at a woman wreathed in sunlight and realising for the first time that he  _ liked _ her. That he wanted her. 

 

The feeling was stirring the same way it had with Garona, the same way it had before her with… 

 

If Lothar let it, this would go the same way. 

 

Burying someone he couldn't live without or losing someone he'd let close enough to hurt him, either way he lets himself hurt and be hurt and he… he can't. Besides, he can't think of a worse match for Khadgar than himself. So… that's that.

 

The mage's full weight sagged into Lothar's chest, and while it wasn't considerable Lothar hadn't been noticing it so he had to catch Khadgar to steady him. “Khadgar?” But Khadgar was asleep, wet cheeked and completely boneless as Lothar sighed into the mop of dark hair under his chin. 

 

All forgotten in the morning, Lothar repeated it like a mantra in his head as he negotiated Khadgar onto the bed. The mage wasn't wearing shoes for Lothar to remove and Lothar very firmly wasn't going any further than shoes, so he pronounced the mage ‘put to bed’ in every sense before taking a lingering look at the crib.

 

Lothar wasn't a coward, at least by his own definition. He prided himself on facing things head on, but being brave meant feeling like you wanted nothing more than to run and staying despite that feeling. Something in Lothar felt like it had been rubbed the wrong way- unsettled in a way he didn’t want to face. He wanted to sit in his room away from the cause of the unsettling until it went away but…

 

From the crib came a small, distressed whine. Lothar looked in and the elk plushie had shifted out of Daina's sleeping grasp; the antler she had been gripping having been pushed too far from her. He gently moved it back to her and watched her fingers curl greedily around the toy antler. She made the decision for him. He wanted to leave, because he wanted to run away, and he couldn’t. Daina needed him to listen for her as he’d promised Khadgar he would and he had a lifetime of disappointing one particular child, he didn’t necessarily need to add to that.

 

Lothar settled down to sleep on the couch he and Khadgar had been drinking on, mind filled with a thousand prickling thoughts all set to keep him tossing and turning all night. It was amusing when Khadgar started snoring; Lothar knowing he would have little rest anyway. 

 

Though he considered it payback when dawn came and Daina roused them both with a demanding shriek for breakfast. Lothar took it with more grace than Khadgar did, the mage emitting a guttural groan before curling up into his pillow with a pleading keen. It shouldn't have made Lothar smile any more than the snoring had but in the wake of a sleepless night, it was the small things that made the dawn brighter. He moved to where Daina was wrathfully kicking away her blanket, little arm shaking her toy with vengeful promise and her brow wrinkled in a barely woken fervor. Her stomach was empty and there would be hell to pay, it seemed. Scooping her wriggling body up, Lothar bounced her on his hip but it did little to soothe her as her crying gained rhythm- a gulping inhale, followed by a wailing exhale, then repeat- and Khadgar whined again at the noise.

 

“Does someone have a headache?” Lothar asked more loudly than was strictly necessary. His only answer was another strangled whine. “Uh, oh, Daina,” Lothar was smiling as he found Lothar’s stash of approved foods for children with no teeth but who were trying to get them. It was mostly soft fruits but there was some bread Lothar remembered soaking in milk with Callan. Fresh milk meant a trip to the kitchen or… “Khadgar?” A wretched sound came from the huddle of mage and robe on the bed, “Well you wanted to play dad, and Daina needs milk, so come on. Magic, please.” Khadgar’s bleary eyed scowl peered out from the disarrayed hair that Lothar took to be some sort of incredulity at either Lothar’s insistent pestering or that Lothar expected him to cast spells with what was no doubt a spectacular hangover.

 

As it was not an outright ‘no’, Lothar held his hand out expectantly. 

 

“Khadghar; milk please.”

 

The filthy look persisted but Khadgar waved his hand and a glass of milk appeared almost in Lothar's hand. Almost. 

 

Lothar managed to catch it and only sloshed about a third of it down himself and on the floor. Khadgar smirked, the brat. It didn't stop Lothar remembering the errant thoughts he hadn’t been able to shake all night, but Daina was quick enough to demand Lothar’s entire attention so she could have her breakfast. The thought would pass. Lothar had felt attraction to plenty of people and it always did if he ignored it and did nothing about it. He'd thought Garona might have been worth it but, well… and what he had with Khadgar certainly wasn't worth risking. 

 

With Daina’s uncooperative wriggling Lothar managed to tear into the bread and dip small chunks of the soft white inner bread into the milk. Khadgar had curled up again so the room fell into silence bar Daina’s sniffling. The bread swelled with milk and Daina greedily chomped her gums around Lothar’s fingers when he offered it to her, a mess quickly developing of soggy, half masticated bread and dribbles of milk. Thankfully, Khadgar had a spoon to hand which Lothar quickly took for the purpose of scooping up the mess to get as much of it into Daina’s mouth as possible.

 

It took all of Lothar’s focus as he balanced her on his lap and tried to make as little of a mess on Khadgar’s couch as he could with Daina’s interference, but Khadgar apparently hadn’t gone back to sleep.

 

“Lothar?”

 

“Mhm?” Daina seemed enthusiastically in favour of her makeshift breakfast but her flailing was making it difficult to make sure any of it got into her mouth.

 

There was an uncertain pause and when Lothar lifted his head, Khadgar was propped up but firmly interested in the fabric of his blankets. “... about… about last night, I-...”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” and it rolled off Lothar’s tongue with all the practiced ease earned from saying it to himself all night. It would pass, don’t worry about it. Khadgar blinked at him in surprise but it was an easy way out. Hardly the end of it, not if Khadgar really felt Lothar was pushing him away, but it wasn’t the out Lothar was looking for. He wanted to forget the night as best he could and it started with getting Khadgar to forget it too. If neither of them acted any different then nothing was different. Daina’s hand curled around the spoon Lothar had found to feed her with, her nose scrunched in concentration as she ate the soggy slop Lothar had made for her. If Lothar lost Khadgar, he'd lose her too and Lothar was growing kind of attached to the little mite. 

  
Better things stayed exactly as they were.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taria was content to have his hand in it recognised and Lothar wasn’t exactly going to take over, they trusted each other. Lothar didn’t have to like the situation, however. 
> 
> And he didn’t. At all.

Lothar hated paperwork, but he hated it more so when he had interruptions. If he was simply left with the piles of reports and documents needing his attention then he could just plough through them- tedious as it was- and at least salvage something of his day without wasting time. 

 

Unfortunately, as Regent Lord with Queen Taria very much still in a position of power that Lothar had absolutely no intentions of taking from her, there were things that required both of their attentions. And discussion. Often. Because they both came at the situations from different angles. Taria had the same pragmatism he did, but hers was a gentler hand that Lothar didn’t possess. Be it age or a military mind Lothar’s first response to a problem was how to quash it. By soldiers or force or a stern look, he had enough issues to handle that if there was one he could glare into submission he was more than happy to do so. Taria on the other hand was more ready to be diplomatic and reasonable- things Lothar rarely excelled at. However, after the last negotiation meeting with Greymane didn’t go well and Taria caught Lother and Varian exchanging blatant disdainful looks at the Gilnean’s reluctance to aid them, Taria had given him stern words to set a better example for the future King. 

 

That included properly discussing all matters so as to help educate Varian by involving him at least by listening. Lothar was hardly a particularly vocal person when he was thinking, finding it easier to mull it over himself and then bark out commands when he’d found an appropriate course of action, it wasn’t an easy task. He’d half a mind to plead with Taria to just take back his title of Regent Lord and let her handle it. He was more than happy to advise her, he was still Commander of Stormwind’s army. Lothar had hinted- rather blatantly- that he would prefer that, but the people of Stormwind were clamouring for Lothar’s leadership after his success in defeating the Orc threat at least partially. Taria was content to have his hand in it recognised and Lothar wasn’t exactly going to take over, they trusted each other. Lothar didn’t have to like the situation, however. 

 

And he didn’t. At all.

 

The room Taria had selected for their purposes used to be Llane’s private study. There was a door to a larger, more stately room to receive visitors who might need to privately discuss certain things but the private study suited them just fine. Varian seemed to enjoy the informality of it, being permitted to sit a little less straight and speak without thought with only his mother and uncle to hear his earnest questions and thoughts.

 

A determined shriek from the soft blanket on the floor made Lothar look over.

 

Well… only Taria, Lothar, Daina, and Khadgar. 

 

The study was large enough for all of them and Lothar felt better when they were both close enough to keep an eye on them. He could do well to make sure there were no more daggers in the backs of those he cared for and doing that entailed as close an eye as he could keep without infuriating them all. Surprisingly, the shared study accomplished that. It wasn’t as though Khadgar was concerned with a study of his own and much as Khadgar apologised for Daina’s occasional fussing the infrequent need to bounce a toddler on his knee as he held a report far from her reaching fingers was actually a welcome break to the stress.

 

As Lothar had decided after that night in Khadgar’s room with the wine, nothing had changed in terms of his relationship to Khadgar. The mage knew nothing of the foolish thoughts that had crossed Lothar’s mind and it would stay exactly that way. It wasn’t as though there was even the time to consider otherwise.

 

Taria and Lothar were sitting at a large round table in the centre of the room and had their hands full with the same report, both their brows furrowed in an almost identically critical look, with Khadgar was across the room from the central table with a tome easily half the weight of the mage himself. It’s aged pages actually cracked ominously with each delicate turn, as though it might crumble to dust if Lothar so much as laid one careless finger on it- hence it being far from anyone who might do such a thing on another table. 

 

“Sorry, your majesty-”

 

“It’s fine, Khadgar. Don’t trouble yourself so,” Taria answered gently as she did every time. 

 

Khadgar made to move towards Daina when Lothar nudged Varian’s shoulder, “Varian, go on.”

 

“What?! Me?!” The prince’s voice cracked in that telling way that gave away his age. 

 

Lothar snorted, “Yes, you. Unless you know of another Varian in this room?” Varian stuck out his tongue impishly, kicking out to Lothar’s shin. It stung but Lothar couldn’t help grinning at having successfully riled his nephew up, kicking back to keep up the game but with a playful force. It still earned him a look from Taria.

 

“Anduin,” Taria chided, standing from her seat with all the regal grace befitting a queen. She held a letter in her hand and stepped towards Khadgar, pausing at Varian’s chair for a moment, “Darling, she is just a baby. You handled meeting Count Erlgadin’s newborn son last week, I think you can bring Daina over to your uncle without incident.”

 

With Taria as Varian’s last line of defence now backing Lothar’s suggestion, the look Varian turned to his mother was outright desperate. “But mother, the Count’s son was sleeping! Daina’s so… wriggly,” he said the final word with such distaste that Lothar choked on that bark of laughter it startled from him. Khadgar had the good grace to turn back to his book and hide his laughter in his hand, but his eyes caught Lothar’s and they shared a pained but delighted glee in Varian’s discomfort. 

 

“She’s a baby, Varian. You can handle a baby,” Taria dismissed her son’s pleading with an amused shake of her head. “Khadgar? I believe some of your mail became muddled in with mine; I have letters for you,” She moved closer to the still grinning mage who scrambled to stand to attention for the queen. 

 

“Letters? For me?” Khadgar frowned in confusion at the letters she held out to him, indeed bearing his name in elegant script across the front. There was no seal, no return of address but only the title Mage Consult Khadgar, Stormwind Keep and nothing more on the first. Khadgar supposed that would be all it needed to get to him, there were not exactly a lot of Mage Consults around Stormwind. Even his name wasn’t necessary, and that felt so strange. He’d also never had mail before. It wasn’t as though there were many people writing to the city of Dalaran to contact a child they’d given away at six years, and after he’d run away he’d not exactly had an address to write to even if he knew anyone who might. 

 

Taria peered past Khadgar to the tome he had been examining carefully. Lothar smirked at his sister’s blatant curiosity of something new, remembering a similar look on her face when she was barely kneehigh. It was in decided opposition to the look Varian wore as he reluctantly approached the child sat on the blanket, burbling a demand at his slowness. Daina’s reaching hands unsettled her balance and as her own strength unseated her, she began to fall forwards onto her face. The blanket would save her any injury, that’s what it was there for, and Lothar knew from experience how surprisingly robust children were. Callan had run headlong into a tree once, fallen flat on his back from the impact, and then stood right up again to continue watching the gryphon flight overhead. The twinge of the memory was as sour and barbed as ever, but Lothar was growing to become accustomed to it. The adage that time healed wasn’t exactly true, Lothar found. It was more that the pain became customary and familiar. No easier, no nicer: but part of the norm. 

 

In any case, Varian didn’t exactly have the most experience with children. At twelve he was still a child himself, much as he expended every effort to appear differently, but Lothar saw his eyes go wide at the toppling toddler and instinctively Varian was lunging for the blanket. The prince managed to catch Daina by a palm flat to her chest, pushing her back to sit up as he curled the other behind her head. He’d taken the advice of protecting her head so much to heart that even though Daina was full capable of holding her own head up, Varian still felt the need to cradle it like she might suddenly forget. 

 

“I told you this would happen, Uncle Anduin!” Varian looked as though he intended it to be a barked warning, but with the way his voice cracked and he still looked terrified of the baby winding her fingers into his tunic cuffs it rather came out petulant. 

 

Lothar turned over the page of the report he was reading, “I do believe she’s still in one piece, Varian,” he remarked dryly. He refused to look up to the glare he could feel Varian levelling at him but Varian couldn’t hold it long, not with the way Daina was indeed wriggling with abundant enthusiasm, and Lothar had to look up to watch with open glee. “You look like you’re wrestling an octopus.”

 

Varian grunted as Daina batted at his face, managing to grip her tight to his chest with one hand under her rear and his arm across her chest, fastening her in place. He didn’t appear to be holding her too tightly, not if the way her limbs kicked out like a starfish as she spotted Lothar from her new vantage point. “I-I think I am,” Varian muttered once Daina was settled. He hurried around the circular table he, Taria and Lothar had been sat at with obvious eagerness to deposit the child with Lothar. 

 

“Give me the octopus then,” Lothar said imperiously, as if Varian wasn’t practically throwing the baby at him. Diana’s legs kicked frantically as Lothar’s hands held her under her arms and drew her to him. Her feet planted against his chest and Lothar kept her secure as she bounced uncoordinatedly, devilish fingers reaching for his beard. Lothar hadn’t had a full beard, not as long as it was now, when Callan was young- but he had had long hair and he knew the kinds of pain little fingers could cause when they closed like a vice. Lothar kept his beard far from her hands as he helped her stand, feet balanced on his lap, and pulled faces at her. 

 

“Khadgar, what is this book?” Taria asked, fingers skimming over the pages without daring to touch it. Lothar couldn’t blame her, not with the reputation magic had and the viciously secretive Kirin Tor mages they knew. Medivh had been the only exception to that and, well… now Khadgar remained the exception to the haughty mages Lothar was more used to. 

 

Khadgar had opened one of his letters and was staring at it with his brow furrowed even deeper than it had been at the news he even had mail. He was absorbed entirely and Lothar knew that look well by now to know Khadgar couldn’t even hear them.

 

“Khadgar,” Lothar called. Daina swiped at him and he narrowly dodged her getting a fistful of his hair. “Khad- bookworm!”

 

“Hm?” Khadgar looked up and then blinked a few times, “Oh! Apologies, your majesty. It-it’s… it’s a book on the Guardian.”

 

Lothar frowned, “Medivh?” He was fairly sure he would know if there was a book on Medivh- ha and Llane would never have stopped teasing Medivh about it- and that book looked to be older than Medivh by a few centuries.

 

“No, not Medivh. The Guardian- the power itself and the title of it.” Khadgar’s attention was drifting again as he looked back to the letter in his hand and then up at Taria, remembering the queen was speaking with him.

 

Taria’s eyebrows rose sharply, “I was not aware we had such a tome in the library.”

 

“You, uh… you didn’t. You don’t. I am borrowing it from the Kirin Tor.” Khadgar looked sheepish for a moment.

 

“‘Borrowing’?” Lothar knew that tone from Taria well, from the way Varian was looking on and wincing at the tone the prince did too. 

 

“I did ask- and by rights I should have access anyway. The power of the Guardian wouldn’t be going to anyone other than me, so I should at least be able to have the knowledge I want from them even if I did turn it down,” The mage looked a little defensive.

 

“When on Azeroth did you steal from the Kirin Tor?” Lothar demanded, not at all outraged as he grinned and let his delighted surprise show. Taria gave him a pointed look but he ignored it. The little mage just kept catching Lothar off guard and he couldn’t help enjoying it.

 

Khadgar nodded his head to Daina, “She’s a wonderfully helpful accomplice.”

 

Blinking, Lothar recalled Khadgar returning from Dalaran with Daina and as he put it together Lothar threw back his head and laughed. The barking sound made Daina shriek in her own amusement and, in Lothar’s distraction, shove her fist into his wide mouth. Shaking her free, Lothar held her tighter in his lap so she couldn’t do it again. “Khadgar, I am truly impressed.”

 

“... thank you?” The mage shot Taria an uncertain look but he couldn’t keep the smile off his face. 

 

The queen sighed but she didn’t appear too concerned with remedying the situation as she moved back to her seat. “I suppose it is of more use to you here than collecting dust in their library.”

 

Khadgar didn’t respond but Lothar could see the letter had captured his attention again as the mage toyed with his bottom lip with one hand. When he began to pace Lothar knew they had truly lost him for the moment so Lothar turned his own attention to Daina. She was far too easily entertained by him tapping her on her nose and sticking out his tongue but it entertained Lothar to watch her giggle and give him a lopsided grin.

 

It took him a moment to catch Taria’s intensely fixed look, mostly from the way Varian was turned his head between them as if willing Lothar to look up at his mother. Lothar cocked his head at Taria. His sister looked from him to Khadgar with deliberate emphasis, tipping her head as if to further her point. Lothar frowned and cocked his head again, not at all understanding his sister’s meaning. Taria repeated the motion of her eyes with both eyebrows up and her jaw clenched as though Lothar were being purposefully obstinate. 

 

Lothar looked over to Khadgar and saw the mage had stopped pacing and was instead hunched over slightly with his back to them. He was silent and very still, presumably still reading the letter he had opened, and Lothar frowned at Khadgar’s back. Something was off and looking back to see Taria sweep her hand in an gesture for him to go over Lothar guessed it was his place to find out what was wrong.

 

Hitching Daina up to balance on his hip, Lothar rose from his seat with a huff. Daina seemed to approve of the new view, though her head swung back to look at Varian. Lothar would liken it to a cat with a new toy, especially with how Varian wrinkled his nose at her in return. Lothar paid them little mind, not with his attention now on Khadgar. Khadgar had edged towards the table with the tome and had apparently opened his second letter but it lay discarded on the table, the mage having returned to the first. Lothar frowned at it. It was barely a full sheet of scratchy handwriting and it had Khadgar so tense Lothar thought he could tip the man straight over if he wanted to. 

 

“What do we have here, hm?” Lothar spoke as if he was speaking to Daina, watching Khadgar jump as he realised how close Lothar was. They were only the other side of the room but Taria and Varian seemed to be doing their best to appear as though they were giving them privacy- though Lothar knew Taria was straining to hear every word. Before Khadgar could move Lothar took up the discarded second letter. More a series of letters, really. Three identical forms, actually, and an accompanying over letter. “What…” Lothar’s eyes narrowed as he read, moving his arm when Khadgar reached for the papers.

 

“Lothar, give that-”

 

“These… these are adoption papers,” he looked up at Khadgar with sharp eyes. 

 

“It’s a… a formality, really. I have in all but law, so… Lady Taria helped me arranged things with the orphanage.”

 

Lothar’s eyes snapped to his sister who was doing an impressively dedicated display of scrutinising the report before her. “You could have told me…” It shouldn’t have mattered. It wasn’t as though Lothar was involved in any way, but where Khadgar was concerned he couldn’t shake the want to be. Be it protectiveness or some other foolish notion he couldn’t shake entirely but Lothar didn’t like that Taria had known and he hadn’t. Khadgar wasn’t sure what to say and Lothar cut off his jaw as the mage appeared to grasp for a response. One wasn’t needed. He shook his head a moment and then smiled, tone softer, “You really want to adopt her, hm?” 

 

“It seems idiotic, with everything going on… to want to have a daughter…” Khadgar huffed a laugh, “A  _ daughter _ . It would be so strange. But I can't just abandon her, so… the paperwork just makes it all official, I guess.” As he’d talked, Khadgar’s attention had shifted to Daina on Lothar’s hip and Lothar watched the mage all but melt as Daina burbled at her soon-to-be new father. Though the reaching of her hands to be held by Khadgar was proof enough that he’d already filled the roll a long time ago. 

 

“You’d make a good father,” Lothar hummed thoughtfully, “Though I am going to have to call you Dadgar from now on.” It seemed only polite to tell him. Lothar had been mulling over the nickname for a while and now it was formally recognised, it seemed the right time. Khadgar seemed to approve as much as Lothar had hoped.

 

Khadgar’s face twisted, “No… no, you really are  _ not _ .” He took Daina from Lothar with a scowl.

 

“Mhm, I am.”

 

“No, Lothar,” Khadgar insisted.

 

The grin he gave promised Lothar had no intention of listening, but Lothar’s attention had drifted instead to the other letter. The one Khadgar had hastily folded and shoved into his tunic. “What’s the other letter? It isn’t the adoption papers upsetting you, so-”

 

“I don’t…” Khadgar’s eyes dropped and he seemed to shy away, grasping for words for a moment before he settled on: “I don’t want to talk about it.”

 

Immediately, Lothar inhaled to keep pestering but Taria’s head jerked up to glare at him like she was a bloodhound for his moments of insensitivity. It certainly confirmed that she had been listening in all along. She shook her head sharply and Lothar deflated. Lothar’s curiosity always bested him and it was itching at him to just wrestle the letter free from Khadgar’s hand and-

 

Khadgar’s tension was back as he flicked his gaze back up to Lothar, eyes darting like he expected Lothar to be angry, “Is that… is that alright?”

 

“Is it anything to do with Stormwind?” The safety of the city had to come first, and even as Lothar could see Taria’s eyes narrowing at him dangerously Lothar had to ask. 

 

“No, no, nothing like that,” Khadgar answered earnestly.

 

Rolling one shoulder Lothar gave in. “Fine, we don’t have to talk about it,” He said it a little gruffer than he intended and saw Khadgar’s gaze drop, his shoulders sagging a little. Taria facepalmed behind Khadgar, Varian turned around in his chair to peer over the tip on his knees. With a waving circular motion of her hand and wrist, Taria gestured at Lothar to keep going and her pained expression suggested he wasn’t doing very well. This was why diplomacy as her thing, and his was waving a sword. “But, uh… I’m here? If you, uh… if you need anything?” This tended to be easier when he didn’t have an audience, but he also then didn’t have Taria pointing out where he’d made a mistake. Awkardly, his hand raised to rest on Khadgar’s shoulder but it felt wooden and inelegant. It felt skirting too close to things Lothar had firmly told himself not to give, not to consider. 

 

Khadgar brightened and gave Lothar a grateful smile. He was so earnest it sometimes hurt to look at him, just so pleased and content with Lothar’s pitiful, fumbling attempts at kindness. “Thank you, Lothar,” he said softly.

 

Lothar offered a small smile, all the while trying to crush the fluttering interest in his chest at the way Khadgar was smiling so brightly at him. This would be much easier, Lothar thought, if Khadgar wasn’t so…  _ Khadgar _ .

 

“I should… I should go feed her. I’ll be back soon,” Khadgar was gone after Lothar nodded, a bow of his head to Varian and Taria.

 

Lothar returned to his seat and viciously snatched up the report he had been reading. “Not one word, Taria.”

 

Taria closed her open mouth, about to speak as she had been, and gave Varian an exasperated look, mouthing ‘this is painful’ to him as he nodded back.

 

We should intervene somehow, Varian mouthed back.

 

Turning the idea over in her head Taria considered just how much her brother might kill them versus having to suffer through whatever that was for much longer. Good idea, she nodded to her son with a secretive smile he shared.

 

Lothar looked up and glared at their conspiratorial expressions. “What are you two doing?”

  
“Nothing at all, dear brother,” Taria grinned, Varian laughing into his hand as Lothar scowled at them. She hadn’t seen Varian laugh at all since… maybe a little fun would be good for them both- and if it helped Lothar and Khadgar sort out their nonsense, then so much the better. 


End file.
